In Plain Sight
by Andie14
Summary: Could travel through the Stargate really have caused Lieutenant Colonel Holmes to murder his wife and could it spell the end for the Stargate programme. The Pentagon have sent in a specialist but she has secrets of her own that could spell the downfall of one member of SG1.
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

She watched the mobile phone dance around on the surface of the bedside table as it vibrated. She never had the ringer on. It irritated her. Now the vibration was doing the same. Finally, it stopped, and she released the breath she hadn't realised she had been holding. She climbed out of bed and wandered into the bathroom. She could hear the phone vibrating again as she squeezed toothpaste onto her brush and blocked out the sound by vigorously scrubbing her teeth. Her routine ablutions complete, she returned to the bedroom. The phone was buzzing again. She looked at the name displayed on the screen of the iPhone. Same caller. This time, she reached out and picked it up just before it juddered off the bedside table. She pressed the green button and raised the phone to her ear.

"Yes," she said curtly.

"Hendrik, you've been avoiding me. Fifteen missed calls this morning alone," came the disapproving male voice on the other end.

"I've been busy," she replied.

"Well, you're about to become a lot busier. I've got a job for you," he said.

"I'm taking a break," she snapped.

"You take a break when I tell you that you can take a break and now isn't the time. I'm sending you into…"

She removed the phone from her ear and stared at the screen for a moment before pressing the red 'end call' button and cutting him off.

She knelt beside the bed and felt around beneath until her hand connected with the plastic handle of her suitcase. Pulling it out, she dropped it onto the bed and rolled the release code into the lock. She threw open the lid and removed the thick brown package sat in the centre. A smile crept across her lips as she stroked it with her fingerstips, but she still couldn't bring herself to open it. She hadn't opened it in a very long time. She replaced it as though it were the most delicate of flowers. _Time to move on_ , she thought to herself.

/\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\

Chapter One

Amelia Hendrik stuffed her laptop into her bag, snatched a piece of cold toast from the plate on the table and grabbed her keys. As she passed the mirror in the hallway she glanced sidelong at her reflection and then stopped dead. Her chestnut hair, which was pulled back from her face was escaping the loose fastenings already and her make-up was cursory at best but as usual, she was running late. Reaching up, she removed the toast from between her teeth and headed out of the door, slamming it shut. On the driveway sat a pristine white SUV which she viciously kicked as she passed. Another flat tyre meant she was taking a cab again. The vehicular violence didn't go unpunished however and she promptly tripped and dropped the keys. She heard a car pull up as she bent down, juggling her laptop bag, handbag and toast. She heard a car door open and footsteps on the gravel to the side of the driveway. She was surprised that the cab driver would even have noticed her struggling, but then she saw the boots; black and polished to such a shine she could see her reflection. They could not be mistaken as anything but military and they put her own, well-worn, rarely polished boots to shame. She raised her eyes and was greeted by a warm smile from a man who was certainly not a cab driver but who was squatting in front of her and picking up her keys. Over his shoulder, she could see a large black car, the door still open. Slowly, they both stood, Amelia never taking her eyes off the car and the officer never taking his eyes off Amelia.

"Major Hendrik?" he asked as he handed back her keys.

She removed the toast from her mouth. "Not for a few years," she replied, throwing the toast onto the driveway beneath the car. "I am Doctor Hendrik."

"I'm Major Davis, US Airforce. Can I help you with anything?" he asked.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm your ride to Andrews. Your flight's waiting," he replied.

She frowned as she shoved her keys into her handbag. "Flight?" she queried. "Why would you…I'm sorry, I don't understand."

"To Colorado."

She sighed and looked at him. "Are you always this forthcoming, Major?" Her voice dripped sarcasm. Davis didn't respond. She glanced at her watch. "I have somewhere I need to be."

"You have an appointment with General Landry at the base in Colorado. Please, get into the car." He leant in towards her slightly, glancing furtively about him. "It's a matter of national security, _Doctor_ Hendrick.

"I don't really care," she whispered in an equally confidential tone.

"I have a letter for you. General Sizemore asked me to deliver it personally." He withdrew the envelope from his inside pocket and held it out to her.

She seemed reluctant to take it at first but finally, she snatched it from him and ripped it open. As she read her face flushed and Davis could see her temper rising. Suddenly she screwed the letter up in her balled fist and rummaged in her bag for her mobile phone. Punching in the numbers as though they had personally offended her she waited, impatiently tapping her foot. Finally, somebody answered.

Davis didn't hear the name of the person she asked for, but he was glad he wasn't the recipient of the call. "Hendrik…H.E.N.D…look, just get him on the line…I honestly don't care if he's talking to the bloody President." There was a long pause. "What the hell is this all about?" Another long pause. She paced back and forth, staring at the ground, her free arm across her waist. "Are you serious?" She glanced over her shoulder at the waiting airman and lowered her voice. "I don't care. You have to understand…"

Again, there was a long silence. "You can't keep…You'd better." Her back was to Davis as she hung up, but he watched her carefully as she took a long, deep breath and slowly exhaled.

Amelia Hendrik was not at all what he had expected. He had read her file on the way to collect her, but nothing could have prepared him for the woman herself. Her biography had given her age but, in his opinion at least, she looked younger than her thirty-seven years. Her accent hinted at the many places she had lived. Predominantly it reminded him of the very many British television costume drama's he'd endured during the hours he had sat with his Anglophile mother before her memories had finally ebbed away until she no longer knew who he was. The way she rolled the letter 'r' on the end of her works, however, made it cleared she'd lived in the states for quite some time. Her eyes were green; a little too green, he thought and wondered if their colour was assisted by contact lenses. She was slightly shorter than him, although the inch of heel on her boots brought her almost to eye-level. The smart trouser suit she wore seemed completely at odds with the rather unkempt woman wearing it and he wondered why the Pentagon had decided this youngish woman was the best option over the dozens of more experienced specialists they must have had at their disposal. Not that he was objecting. There was something about her that he found intriguing if a little exasperating.

Amelia cleared her throat and he realised that he was still staring at her. "You are a very handsome man, Major Davis, and under other circumstances, I might be flattered by such close attention but perhaps we should get this over with," she said. "You'll need to bear with me. It seems from this letter I will be spending some time at the SGC." She thrust the letter into her bag before returning to her house and disappearing inside. Davis was as surprised by the house as he had been by the woman herself. Everything was in perfect order; obsessively so, he thought. He could hear her voice and couldn't decide if she was talking to herself as she slammed drawers and cupboard doors or was on the telephone. The banging stopped, and her voice was clearer.

"I assumed that you would have had a hand in it. Is this why you've been calling me relentlessly?...I don't disagree. I'm perfect for the job but I still don't really... You know how I feel about it. You promised…Alright…you've made your point but this has to be an end of it. I'll be in touch," she said, a bitterness in her voice as she hung up. Finally, she appeared again with a wheeled suitcase.

"Shall we go?" she barked.

He placed her luggage into the boot then held the car door open for her. Quickly retrieving a briefcase from the front passenger seat, he slid into the rear of the car beside her. She clipped on her seatbelt and then twisted in the leather seat to face Davis.

"So, apparently you're going to brief me?" she demanded. Davis flicked the clasps on the briefcase and opened it, but he hesitated for a moment. Pressing his lips together thoughtfully, he took a deep, audible breath and closed it again. He turned in his seat to face her, scowling slightly.

"Doctor Hendrik, I have no idea what your issue is with this assignment but frankly, we have a long journey ahead of us and I think that it would be easier on both of us if you stop being pissed with me and direct your anger in a more appropriate direction…or better still, get it under control."

She stared at him for a moment, stunned. The last person who had spoken to her like that had spent the next few hours in the local emergency room while they fixed his nose. But that had been a long time ago. She liked to think she'd mellowed since then. With the slightest inclination of her head, she acquiesced. Opening the briefcase again, he removed a buff coloured folder and handed it to her.

"This is everything you need to know for now. Please understand…the information in here and the project itself is classified. There is a contract that you're expected to sign." He twisted the top of his silver coloured Cross pen and handed it to her, expressionless.

"And if I chose not to sign?"

"I got the impression it was a direct order."

"I don't take orders, Major," Amelia replied, making a determined effort to control her tone despite the growing resentment.

"So I hear."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means I know you're no longer in the Airforce because you have an issue with authority. I know that you left before you were busted down to Captain."

"And I know that you didn't get that from my file. Have you been listening to gossip, Major Davis?"

He smiled. "I was told that, once you'd read the letter, you'd take the position."

"I bet you were," she muttered under her breath as she pulled the contract from the folder and scribbled her signature on the bottom, handing it back to Davis.

"You didn't have time to read that," he said. "I'd say that's a little risky?"

She snapped. "Would you? I'd say that it's largely irrelevant and really none of your concern," she replied sharply.

Davis said nothing. Amelia was silent as the car pulled away from the kerb. She watched him from the corner of her eye for a moment. He was staring directly ahead, studiously ignoring her, his mouth set in a hard line. She'd said that he was handsome in a fit of temper, but it was no less the truth. He was a very attractive man and the uniform he wore did nothing to detract from that. She reflected on the last few minutes, the way she'd spoken to him. He was justified in his decision to ignore her. She'd been a bitch. That wasn't unusual either, but he hadn't deserved it.

"I apologise, Major Davis," she said, exhaling audibly. He glanced at her briefly before looking out of his window. "I wasn't expecting…" she paused, "I suppose it doesn't matter now and it's certainly no excuse. I'm sorry…really. I'm also very curious about this project that I've heard so much about but seen nothing of."

Davis shuffled in his seat, turning to face her again. He lifted an eyebrow. "You've heard of it?"

"I worked for the IOA for a while. Part of a medical advisory. Nothing in detail though. More of a high-level overview. I'm naturally a curious person so I read as much as I was allowed."

"I see. Well, then I guess you're in luck." He smiled. She fleetingly wondered if he was married, glancing at his left hand, before quickly reminding herself that she was here to do a job. Relationships just gave people a hold over you. They were dangerous. They were a thing of the past.

"Doctor Hendrik?" Davis' voice broke through her thoughts.

"Sorry. I was just thinking about my cat," she lied, suddenly hoping her housekeeper wouldn't mind taking care of the nameless grey tabby that had adopted her when she had moved in.

"A cat?" he repeated dryly. She chose to ignore him.

"So, what do you do for the Airforce aside from babysitting duty?" she asked.

"That's classified," he replied. "But I do know that being a doctor doesn't pay as well as I'd thought. Either that or you're a kleptomaniac." He held out his hand. She stared blankly at him. "My pen?"

"Sorry!" she replied, her eyes widening in horror and handing it back to him. "There must be something we can talk about or this is going to be a very dull journey."

"I'm sorry, ma'am. I really can't comment," Davis replied.

"Ma'am?" she exclaimed. "Good Lord. I think I just gained about ten years."

"Sorry!"

"Will you be staying with me? Can you tell me that?" she asked and then realised how it might sound. She looked at him. "I meant, will you be with me all the…" She gave up.

The corners of his mouth turned up, betraying his amusement at her obvious embarrassment. He chose not to torment her any further. "General Sizemore at the Pentagon specifically asked me to work with you. It's likely that you'll have to go off-world at some point and the teams tend to be a little…reluctant to take a civilian with them."

She looked down at the folder again and sighed. "I bet," she muttered.

"But then, you're not exactly a civilian are you?"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Had it not been for the large letters and numbers painted on the various doors on their route, Amelia would have sworn that they were simply walking in circles. Not much scared her but she hated not being able to see daylight. For much of her childhood and early teens, she had struggled with claustrophobia. A course of hypnotherapy had pretty much got it under control but occasionally something would trigger her fear again. The functional but basic elevator in the SGC had done just that and as jolted on its descent, she had grabbed Major Davis' arm. The pink flush in her cheeks was still there even as they stepped out through the metal doors onto level twenty-seven.

"Not far now, Doctor Hendrik," he said as he glanced over his shoulder to discover that she had dropped behind trying to catch a glimpse into each of the rooms they passed.

"Sorry, I was just…" she began.

"Being nosy!" Major Davis finished her sentence with a wry smile.

"If you're going to be impertinent, I think you should at least tell me your name," she said, picking up her pace.

"They were your words, not mine."

"I believe that I said I was curious, not nosy. So…what is your name?"

"Davis," he replied flatly.

She groaned. "We have already established that but I'm sure that isn't what your mother called you."

He stopped and turned to face her. "My mother called me many things, Doctor Hendrik, but most of them are not for the ears of a lady."

"A lady? I'm flattered."

"Then you've taken more from it than was intended," he replied with a swift rise of his eyebrows. Amelia smiled broadly and shook her head. The smile lit her eyes and Davis tried very hard to ignore the growing attraction he felt.

"General Landry is waiting." He continued his swift march through the depths of the mountain complex. Amelia rolled her eyes and caught up with him again.

'' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' ''

The briefing room was empty when Colonel Cameron Mitchell arrived. Rather than taking his seat, he wandered to the window overlooking the embarkation room, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his combat pants, scuffing his boots on the floor as he went.

"Colonel," a voice called out to him. He turned to see General Landry entering through the connecting door from his office.

"Am I early?" Mitchell asked. Landry shook his head and held out his hand, indicating to Mitchell to sit. "How's the new grandson?"

The question brought an immediate smile to Landry's face.

"He's doing well. Due to leave hospital today." He briefly considered showing Mitchell the photograph Carolyn had emailed to him, then changed his mind. He'd never known what to say when other overly enthusiastic people imposed pictures of their children and grandchildren on him. He wasn't going to be one of those people.

"Carolyn naming him after you?"

"I doubt that," he replied, wondering if anybody would call a child 'Hank' these days. "I wanted to speak with you before the rest of the team arrived. I had a call from the Pentagon yesterday," Landry said.

Mitchell rolled his eyes. Nothing good ever seemed to come from calls or visits from the Pentagon. "What did they want?"

"They're sending Carolyn's replacement."

"Replacement?" Mitchell replied.

Landry sighed. "Carolyn decided that this wasn't the right job for a woman with a young family. Frankly, I suspect that her husband had more to do with that than she'll admit." The bitterness in his voice couldn't be mistaken.

Mitchell said nothing. Since the moment Carolyn had introduced Julian to her father it had been clear that Landry hadn't liked him. He wasn't military, not that that was an issue in itself, but he was a very vocal and well-connected pacifist who had ambitions of political office. He was surprised that Carolyn had fallen for him, but she had, and the wedding had come shortly after.

"She'll be acting CMO but there's a little more too it. She's a specialist. Neurology. The Pentagon want her to run tests on all of the SG teams. You heard about Lieutenant Colonel Holmes."

"Yeah. Nasty business. I heard they had to use DNA to identify his wife by the time he was done with her." Mitchell felt himself shudder.

"His defence are claiming a neurological disorder. The Pentagon want to make sure that the rest of you aren't going to be going on a murderous rampage around the US because of that." He looked out of the long window towards the Stargate.

"So, the new CMO…Airforce this time?" Mitchell asked.

"Not exactly but she's been posted by the Pentagon, so she must have something," Landry replied, although he couldn't think what. "I'm going to need an SG team who can help her understand the gate, the travel…"

"Any reason it has to SG1?" Mitchell asked, already dreading having to deal with a civilian.

"Quite an assumption, Colonel."

"But it is where you were going?"

Landry nodded and smiled. "Because you're the best."

"Flattery will get you everywhere," Mitchell smile, shaking his head. "So, who is she?"

"Let's see. A doctor…Henson…Heinrick. Something like that. I have her file in my office. Major Davis is bringing her from Washington. The flight should be landing any time."

"Hendrik?"

"Could be."

"So, I guess now would be a bad time to ask for leave?" Mitchell replied.

"I'm not even allowed to take leave to see my first grandchild so I sure as hell won't be authorising anyone else's," Landry replied as the other members of SG1 entered the room.

'' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' ''

Davis knocked with purpose and, Amelia suspected, urgency on Landry's door but he didn't wait for a response.

The office was smaller than she had expected. In her mind, she had conjured up a large airy room with medals and pictures displayed proudly but it could not have been further from her image. Dull, matte walls contrasted with the leather chair and large polished wooden desk. She smiled to herself when she noticed the red phone, amused that it was real. The office was empty of any other person, however.

"I thought I was expected," Amelia said as she wandered around the office. From the window, through a star map, she could see the conference room and the man she was waiting for. She was unable to hear the conversation, but it seemed heated. Finally, General Landry stood, pushing back his chair and leaving the rest of the group looking deflated.

She noticed that the eyes of the occupants of the conference room had followed him and were now watching carefully; one pair in particular. She felt her stomach cramp and her throat constrict. They hadn't seen each other for over three years and there was bad blood between them. She wished now that she'd just booked the plane ticket to London when she'd had the chance. Desperately trying to keep her composure, she took a deep breath, exhaled slowly and turned from the window, determinedly fixing her attention on General Landry.

He addressed her as he entered the office through the connecting door, closing it quietly behind him. "Doctor Hendrik, I'm pleased to meet you," he said, shaking her firmly by the hand.

"Thank you," she replied. "You know why I'm here of course."

"I received a call yesterday. Terrible business but I just can't see how off-world travel would have driven Holmes to murder his wife like that."

"I'd like to access all the medical files, but I don't think that we should jump to any conclusions, General," Amelia cautioned. "Perhaps you can tell me a little more about your operation. Davis provided a file that gave little more information that I had already obtained when dealing with some of your 'collateral damage' in the Airforce medical facility a few years ago."

She didn't miss the shifty glance between Landry and Davis but neither spoke.

"Okay, so I'll start with what I know, and you can fill in the blanks perhaps. I know that the program is known as Stargate and I know it involves off-world travel. I'm also aware that there have been a number of alien incursions over the last few years that have been carefully kept from the general public but have had a considerable impact on this program and the people involved. Deaths, even." She was surprised by the ease with which the words fell from her lips, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. "I also know that I'm not necessarily going to be the most popular person during my investigation, but I hope that I don't encounter too much resistance. It makes the process so much more difficult for all of us. I think we all need to keep in mind that a very sick man is sat in a secure medical facility right now."

In spite of herself, she glanced through the window again. With one exception, the gathered Airforce officers had dispersed. The remaining officer looked up, holding her with an arctic, unyielding glare before slowly standing and leaving the briefing room. The knot in Amelia's stomach tightened until she thought she was going to be sick.

"Could I get a glass of water?" she asked.

General Landry raised his eyebrows and glanced from Amelia to Davis who passed him a brown folder.

"You seem to be quite a remarkable woman, Doctor Hendrik," Landry began, dragging her attention back. "Highly qualified for someone of your age."

"I'm very driven" she replied flippantly. "And without intending to sound conceited, I'm very clever."

Davis rolled his eyes as the hard, defensive Amelia returned.

"General Sizemore speaks very highly of you. I understand that he personally recommended you for this position."

A smile flickered across her lips. "He was a good friend of my father."

"I met your father a few times, Doctor Hendrik. He was a good man and a good officer. I was sorry to hear of his untimely death."

Amelia tried to control her growing temper. Here she was in the heart of the SGC, listening to the commander of the very program that had been the cause of her father's painful and protracted death. "So, you have my resume and you've been very flattering, for which I thank you, but I think I should probably get to work."

"I understand that you have worked with both soldiers and civilians. You produced a very interesting, and given it is not your specialty, a very brave paper on PTSD not so long ago."

"You read it?" She couldn't conceal her surprise.

"I did, Doctor Hendrik." He paused for a moment, looking down at her file. "Have you had any experience of brain washing?"

For a moment, Amelia thought he was joking but his stony expression quickly made it clear he was in earnest.

"Well…people can be influenced or coerced, often to the point of complete compliance, but brainwashing is a fallacy unless induced by drugs and even then, you'd really have to know what you're doing. It takes a long time to do it properly. You'd have to continually be topping up the meds to maintain any lengthy control but to call it 'brainwashing' is a misnomer. Look, I'm not sure why you're asking me that but please understand – I'm here to do a specific job and then I'll be off."

"You won't be applying for the permanent position?" Landry frowned.

"I won't, no."

"You're an Airforce officer."

"As I explained to Major Davis, I _was_ an Airforce officer," she said, emphasising the difference. "And that is precisely why I won't be applying for the job on a permanent basis. I don't take orders very well."

"Private practice more lucrative, hmm?" Landry replied, his attention returning to the brown folder on his desk.

"The money had nothing to do with it, although I suspect that you already know that as it's my personnel file you're reading."

"Yes, it is Doctor Hendrik. You seem to move around a good deal. Never really settle in any one place?"

"I like a challenge."

"You resigned after only a year at the military hospital - your last assignment for the Airforce I believe. Why was that?"

Amelia sighed heavily and stared from the window into the empty briefing room for a moment. "I am trying to be as patient as I can General Landry but this is not a job interview and I'm not one of your airmen. I am here at the behest of the Pentagon and much against my better judgment, so I find your questions irrelevant and offensive. If you don't want me here, I _beg_ that you pick up that phone and call General Sizemore. I can't tell you how pleased I would be to be replaced but I think you should consider the man you have lying in the medical centre right now. As for my resignation - I made no secret of my reasons and they are well documented, presumably in that file. I'll give you a few minutes to rummage through it if that will help."

"Tell me anyway," Landry replied, closing the folder with a slow deliberate movement. He leant back in his chair and waited.

"No," she replied firmly.

"There was a suggestion that personal reasons motivated your sudden move," Landry persisted.

Amelia glanced at Davis who was trying to look disinterested. "Yes,"

"And they were...?"

"Personal," Amelia snapped. "Forgive me General Landry, but you must have access to a dozen doctors, psychologists, psychiatrists?"

"Yes, I do."

"Then why are you wasting my time with this?" she asked sharply.

"Because I don't understand why the Pentagon would send you when there are other options."

"Other uniformed options, you mean? You know as well as I do that I'm one of the best in my field. I left the military before I was given a dishonourable discharge. It was coming, believe me. The rumours about me busted down to Captain are false but I'm sure it would have happened in time. Add my personal reasons to that and it was the right move for everyone."

Landry pulled himself up in his chair until his back was straight as a rod. He could feel the tension in his shoulders. Normally he would ball out an officer for speaking back but she wasn't one of his officers.

"Look, once your new CMO is appointed, I'll be out of your hair. I don't plan to disrupt the running of your base or impede the off-world assignments that your teams are expected to embark on. I'll just be an inconvenience to them when they return as I conduct some extra tests and examinations when your medical staff are done with them. Believe me, I have no wish to remain in this technological tomb any longer than I need to. I assume that there's an office?"

"There is, and you'll find all the mission logs there. I thought you might wish to read through them. Get an idea of what these people do. I'll have someone show you to your living quarters in the meantime."

"And the medical records? They're all on computer I assume?"

"You'll be given a secure username and password so that you can access them," Davis chipped in.

"I've assigned you to SG1 for the duration of your stay. You'll find the necessary clothing in your quarters."

"I'm sure that it won't be necessary for me to leave Earth," she replied with a hint of anxiety creeping into her voice.

"There's nothing to worry about, Doctor Hendrik. The teams do this sort of thing every day. You'll be in no danger. SG1 are the best we have."

"Through the gate?" she exclaimed. "The same gate that I've yet to establish was not the cause of Lieutenant Colonel Holmes mental collapse."

Landry simply nodded.

She looked over at Major Davis who gave her an encouraging smile.

"Very well," she said, resignedly. "I really do need that glass of water."

Landry stood and opened the door of his office which led out into the grey corridor. "I'll show you the way to the mess," he said. They hadn't got far down the corridor when Landry's relentless questioning began again.

"I understand that you were offered a very lucrative research position recently in London, but you turned it down. Why was that?"

"I haven't turned it down. I told them I'd think about it. I'm still thinking about it," she replied.

"Why do you see this assignment as a punishment?"

"What?" Amelia retorted.

"You made it very clear that you don't want to be here. Why?"

"To be completely honest with you, General Landry…" They turned the corner Amelia stopped dead. Colonel Cameron Mitchell was rushing in the opposite direction and almost collided with them. As their eyes met, Amelia could feel a burning heat engulf her body. She prayed that it didn't show. Mitchell broke eye contact first, turning to address his commanding officer.

"Just left Billington, sir. She'll have the MALP ready to go by this evening," he said, struggling not to look at the woman whose eyes were darting up and down the corridor, apparently looking for an escape. She found it.

"Excuse me," she said quietly before ducking through the doorway of the ladies' room.

.

She walked to the basins and leant heavily against the cold steel. Her temples throbbed and she wretched as a wave of nausea washed over her. Slowly she looked up at her reflection in the mirror. Her face was flushed, and beads of perspiration had formed in her hairline. It had surprised her. She had always managed to maintain her equanimity in even the most testing circumstances but just the sight of Cameron Mitchell had brought her to this and she hated herself for it. Hated her own weakness. Hated that after more than three years he could have this effect on her. Hated that it was all her own fault.

"Shit!" she cried, slamming her hands down on the metal edge of the sink. "Damn it!"

She cried out, her temper flaring again. She took a deep breath, and ran the tap, splashing the ice-cold water on her face. As she looked up into the mirror again, she was startled by the sound of the toilet flushing and the appearance of a blonde woman wearing a black t-shirt and combat pants. She hadn't even thought to check if she was alone. The woman gave her a little smile as she washed her hands a couple of basins away. Amelia pulled herself to her full height, her back ramrod straight, and smiled back as the water drizzling down her face.

"Are you okay?" the woman asked as she handed her some paper towel.

"I'm...yes, I'm fine, thanks. A bit of claustrophobia I think," Amelia replied unconvincingly.

"I'm Sam Carter," Sam smiled, holding out her hand. Amelia shook it.

"Amelia Hendrik. Pleased to meet you."

"You're the temporary CMO, right?" Sam asked.

"I am," Amelia replied with a hint of apology in her voice. She didn't know why.

"Well, if there is anything I can do to help…" Sam smiled warmly.

"You could show me to the mess. I've been asking for a glass of water since I arrived but I'm starting to get the impression water is rationed around here."

Sam chuckled. "Sure. This way," she said, leading the way from the room.

In the corridor, General Landry had waited for her. There was no sign of Colonel Mitchell and Amelia felt the relief wash over her.

"My apologies, General," she said. "It's the lack of daylight."

"Sir, I was just going to show Doctor Hendrik to the mess," Sam said.

"Okay. Then you can show her to her to her office and accommodation."

He turned back to Amelia. "I'll allow you the day to settle in and find your way about. Briefing room at zero seven hundred tomorrow and I'll introduce you to the rest of SG1." Landry said with a smile that told Amelia that he was glad to be relieved of babysitting duty.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

The Chief Medical Officers room was in semi-darkness. Amelia Hendrik was sat at her desk, partially hidden from view by a stack of folders and a cardboard box that contained more of the same. When General Landry had told her he'd had the mission reports sent to her office he hadn't been joking. Every report…ever. She removed her glasses and glanced over to the empty mug, sighing.

"I thought you might need this," came a disembodied voice.

Amelia swung around in her seat and smiled as Davis approached with a steaming mug in his hand. He'd shed his blue uniform and was wearing grey jeans and a black v-neck sweater, the sleeves pushed up to the elbows to reveal dark hair on toned forearms.

"Double shot, black, no sugar, right?" he asked.

"So, you were listening," she chuckled as she recalled the strange conversation they'd had about their favourite food and drink on the plane journey to Colorado. She took a sip. "Angel! Thank you." She offered him a seat.

"Why are you in here? It's late. I assumed you'd be in your quarters. I went there first?"

"He's assigned me a sauna. I can't turn the heating down. They've got a maintenance guy in there looking at it, but I can't help thinking it's a deliberate attempt to drive me out of here," she grumbled.

"I suspect it'll take more than that to make you surrender?" he smirked.

"Oh, I'd surrender in a heartbeat, frankly Major Davis! I'm pretty much at the end of my rope right now…I don't know." She sipped the coffee and sighed. Her shoulders dropped, and Davis saw the tension leave her muscles. "Compared to what goes on here though…I can't believe some of the things in these files. How are you all still sane? I assume there's a very busy psychiatrist here?" she chuckled.

"We have a few of them," Davis pulled out the chair opposite and sat. "It's just another enemy. It's what we're trained for. You know that!" he replied. "You've seen this kind of thing before."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"You were Airforce," he replied, recalling her earlier conversation with Landry. "And your father was Airforce. And you worked in a military hospital. That's got be the worst of what happens."

She nodded, recalling her stint in the field hospital. "A human enemy can be understood, though. You know what you're up against but these Goa'uld were…" She opened the file in her hand and at stared at the photograph contained within. She felt her heart begin pounding harder in her chest, thudding in her ears. "He was a Goa'uld?"

Davis looked at the photograph. "Ba'al," he said. "Yes. He hid on Earth for a few years. Cloned himself. Vain. Vicious. Scheming. Probably the worst of the lot"

"Charming though," she replied absently as she stared at the photograph. Davis' brow furrowed fleetingly, caught off-guard by her words.

"You've met him?" he asked.

"What?"

"You said he was charming."

"Oh, I see." Amelia shook her head. "No, I remember seeing him on television. Some aeronautic company CEO…or at least that what he was telling everyone."

"He was clever…too clever…but they caught him. Removed the symbiote."

"You said he cloned himself? How can you be sure they're all dead?" she asked.

"He was also paranoid. I suppose he knew himself well enough to know that his clones would be as ambitious and ruthless as he was. He'd fitted them all with trackers. He killed most of them himself, afraid they'd turn on him. We've never picked up anymore. We can only assume we're right."

She was silent for a moment as she stared at the photograph. Then she slipped it back into the file and opened another. "These replicators, bits of metal that can form to look like human beings…and the Ori," she continued. "Now that was a hell of a cult. I'm less and less surprised that the Pentagon are worried that you'll have half of the SG teams rampaging around Colorado or gibbering to themselves in secure hospitals."

"That didn't sound very professional," Davis said with raised eyebrows. "How long _have_ you been sat in here?"

Amelia looked at her watch. It was just before ten. "Too long," she sighed.

"Alone?"

"I'm not here to make friends."

"Well, you've certainly got the right attitude to achieve that," he replied. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth and she looked away.

Davis leaned forward, his arms on the table and looked at her, debating if his next move was a wise one. "You'd probably find things easier if you were less defensive," he ventured.

"Defensive?"

He nodded. "Stubborn and, frankly, quite hostile."

Amelia's eyebrows shot up and she stared at him with wide eyes, astounded. "You certainly nail your colours to the mast, don't you Major?"

"I speak my mind, yes," he replied. "You think I'm rude?"

Amelia smiled and shook her head. "I actually find you refreshing. Not many people have had the courage to say something like that to me."

"I can imagine!" Davis muttered.

"Pardon?"

"Nothing…have you eaten?"

"I've been to the mess, Major, so no, I haven't eaten," she replied.

"Doctor Hendrik…" Davis began.

"Call me Amelia."

"Amelia," he repeated with an unexpected nervousness. "There's a place not far from here. It's nothing flash. Burgers mostly but it's open late and…well I wondered…if you're hungry…" He looked at her. Her eyes glistened with tears of mirth as she bit her bottom lip to stifle her laughter.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

Amelia nodded and wrinkled her nose. "A little too much, perhaps?"

"Far too much!" Davis replied, hitching one eyebrow. "Now, are you hungry or not?"

"Yes, but I make a point of not accepting invitations from people who won't tell me their name."

"Paul."

She rolled her eyes and looked visibly disappointed. "That's not nearly as embarrassing as I'd started to imagine from your bashfulness. I would love to join you for dinner, Paul, and I insist on buying…as a thank you and an apology for my initial…abrasiveness."

"I won't argue with that."

"I should probably change though."

Davis looked at his watch. "You have ten minutes," he said with a wry smile. She stood and headed from the mess. "See, you can be almost likeable if you try."

Her eyebrow shot up and she turned back, the corner of her mouth turning up into a smile.

"I've changed my mind. You're just plain rude!"

'' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' ''

Amelia pulled the pillow over her head as the alarm sounded, her arm flailing about as she tried to turn off the tinny, irritating sound. After a minute or two, she lifted the corner of the pillow and glanced at the clock. It was still only six in the morning. She wondered if she dared turn over and chance five more minutes, but she really didn't want to be late – for a change. Rolling across the bed, she dragged herself upright and placed her feet on the cold floor. She sat for a moment, composing herself before heading into the shower. She waited, her hand in the water and it wasn't getting any warmer. She cursed under her breath and resigned herself to a cold shower.

She was ready in record time – well record time for her anyway. She examined herself in the full-length mirror and wondered if she should have made more effort to look professional. Her jeans were old and faded and the white t-shirt fit where it touched. She grabbed a long grey silk shirt and slipped it on over the t-shirt. It still wasn't a suit, but it was a little better, she thought. Ten minutes to go before she was due in the briefing room. She wondered if some make-up would be appropriate before remembering it was the one thing she hadn't brought with her. She wore it so rarely that it wasn't at the top of any packing list. Today, she wished it had been though.

The dark rings under her eyes betrayed the unsettled night she had spent. It had been gone midnight when she and Davis had returned to the base. They'd had fun; more fun than she'd had in a long time. Davis had been careful with the words he'd used but he'd made it clear that he was single and had expertly gone about extracting from her that she was too. He hadn't tested the waters any further and she was glad. She liked him, but she wasn't about to move him from the 'friend zone'. Not yet; probably not ever. She didn't need any more complications in her life. Just coming here had unexpectedly brought enough of that. And even here, she was being watched. She had seen the battered old Ford Taurus when they'd arrived in town, suspected it had been tailing them a few cars back on the drive in from the base. It had been parked across the road the entire time they were in the burger joint, but she'd done her best to ignore it. She just had to try to get through the next few weeks and she really had to find somewhere to live that didn't confine her to this concrete hellhole twenty-four seven. That should be easy enough though. A quick call would sort that. Then it was done. She was done, no matter what it meant for herself.

"Right," she said with a quick spritz of her favourite perfume and a last glance over her clothes in the mirror.

The briefing room was empty when she arrived. She glanced at her watch and chuckled to herself. It was still only a quarter to seven. She'd set her alarm clock fifteen minutes fast to be on the safe side. This had to be the first time she'd be early for anything in a very long time. She hesitated in the doorway, hardly able to believe that she was so far underground. Slowly, she made her way further into the room and was drawn like a magnet to the window overlooking the embarkation room. The Stargate was bigger that she had imagined. She stared at each of the symbols surrounding it, fascinated. It thrilled and terrified her in equal measure.

"It has a way of getting into your head,"

Amelia spun around. "General Landry."

"Would you like to come down and see it?" he smiled.

She glanced back at it over her shoulder, willing herself to decline but she heard herself eagerly accepting his offer instead. She cursed in her head.

"This way," he said.

.

Colonel Mitchell arrived in the briefing room just ahead of Carter. From the window, he could see Landry and Amelia below. He knew she had already been in the briefing room as the familiar fragrance of Chanel nineteen lingered faintly in the air. It was the same perfume she had been wearing when she'd introduced herself to him in the hospital. As he watched her, he remembered the first time he had entered the embarkation room; how he had reached out and touched the Stargate as she was doing now, probably with the same awe-stricken expression on his face. She was tracing one of the lower symbols with her fingers. Every muscle in his body felt tight, burning, had done since the moment he saw her from the briefing room the day before. He muttered something under his breath as he turned away. He took his seat opposite Carter, but he didn't acknowledge her immediately.

"Good morning to you too," she said in the end. Mitchell looked up.

"Sorry. Mornin'," he said.

"Heavy night?" she smiled.

He grumbled something incoherent.

Sam raised her eyebrows and turned her attention to her fingernails instead. Jackson and Vala arrived just as Landry and Amelia returned up the stairs from the Stargate. Amelia hesitated, looked around the table at the seating arrangement. Landry took his seat at the head of the table and indicated to Amelia to sit. Vala pushed out the chair beside her own and smiled warmly, recalling what it had been like being the new girl.

"Doctor Hendrik will be joining us for the time being. She'll be acting CMO until her replacement is appointed and her investigations are complete. I've decided to take the unusual step of assigning her to an SG team as her report will require a full understanding of off-world travel and the effects on the teams. I know we're all very sorry for what happened to Lieutenant Colonel Holmes and we all want to ensure that it doesn't happen again so I'm confident you'll give Doctor Hendrik your full co-operation." The stern tone of Landry's voice made sure not one member of the team questioned his decision.

Amelia had watched the team as Landry made the announcement and could read the disapproval in Mitchell's face; subtle changes in his expression and it was then that the realisation hit her like a hammer blow. She had been so slow, so stupid. This was the team she was expected to work with. This collection of people was SG1. Lieutenant Colonel Cameron Mitchell was SG1. Her mouth went dry, but she didn't dare pick up the glass of water that was sat on the table. Her hands were trembling, and she could feel the colour rising in her cheeks, burning on her chest. She was furious at herself. She should have known but she'd had no time to research this assignment. If she had…but that was her fault as well. She should have taken the call. Major Davis had accused her of being stubborn and hostile. He was right, and it was exactly those character traits that had got her into this position. She could only hope that they would get her out of it too.

"…Mitchell leads the team." Landry's voice penetrated her panic and confirmed her fears. She moved her gaze from Landry to Mitchell and forced a smile to her lips.

"Good to meet you, Colonel." She tried to keep the frost from her voice, but she could see in his eyes that she hadn't succeeded.

"Doctor Hendrik," he replied through teeth, firmly set together. He'd hoped that she'd make the first move, felt she owed him that, but she was looking at him and speaking to him as though she'd never seen him before. She had no right. He was the one that had been left scarred, humiliated. He tried to push it from his mind as he felt his temper rising, his fingers balling into fists, hidden carefully beneath the table. Then the bitterest blow…

"You've already met Sam, Colonel Samantha Carter," Landry said.

"Yes, indeed. I am very much looking forward to working with you Colonel Carter." Amelia smiled, a genuine, warm smile, Mitchell noted.

"Sam, please," Carter replied.

"Then we have our resident linguist and archaeologist, Doctor Daniel Jackson," Landry continued.

"I've read a lot of your work Doctor Jackson. It's fascinating…and brave." Amelia's eyes strayed to Mitchell who was staring fixedly at the table.

"Thanks…I think," Jackson chuckled.

"It's a compliment…really," she said hurriedly. He laughed.

"Skulking in the doorway there, is Doctor Markus Kaufmann." Landry waved him inside the room. "He's been doing an excellent job filling in for Doctor Lam." The two doctors greeted each other with a formal nod as Markus made his way further into the room. He excused himself and handed Landry a letter. Amelia watched the expression on his face change. He frowned then his eyebrows shot up. "We'll discuss this after the meeting," he said in a hushed voice. Markus took the letter back and left the room.

"And I'm Vala Mal Doran," Vala said, feeling she had waited long enough for Landry to introduce her. "Call me Vala though."

"A pleasure to meet you, Vala. May I ask what your role is with the team?"

Vala stared at Amelia, her mouth opened in a wide, toothy smile but her eyes seemed to be searching for an answer.

"Vala joined us some time ago. She's not from Earth but she has invaluable skills." Landry filled the uncomfortable silence for her.

"Still trying to work out what they are," Jackson muttered loud enough to be heard but softly enough to pretend he hadn't intended to be. Vala shot him a withering look before turning back to Amelia with the same big smile.

"Let me know if there is anything I can do to help you settle in. I know what it's like to be the odd one out around here." Her eyes flashed in Daniel's direction and he pulled a face back at her like a child. Amelia resisted the temptation to tell them to get a room.

"The only missing member is Teal'c. He is a Jaffa from Chulak. He's currently on Dakara but we expect him back any time," Landry said.

"I look forward to meeting him," Amelia politely replied.

"Colonel Mitchell," Landry began, ignoring the ongoing bickering between Vala and Daniel. "SG1 are scheduled off-world tomorrow. Perhaps that would be an excellent opportunity to give Doctor Hendrik a true taste of what you do."

"General Landry, we discussed this. I don't think…" Amelia began, having no desire to travel thousands of light-years as atoms. Mitchell instantly sensed her reluctance.

"Good idea," he replied with a smile that chilled her to the bone.

"I'm sure that the last thing Colonel Mitchell and his team need is a civilian tagging along," she objected. "And surely I'm more use here right now."

"Just keep your head down and do as you're told," Mitchell said, his penetrating stare making her shift uncomfortably in her seat. "If things get tough, run. I'm sure you can manage that."

If his words were chosen and calculated to hurt, they'd hit the mark perfectly. She tore her gaze away, glancing through the window towards the Stargate.

"Well, if that's all, I'm sure you all have work to do. Colonel Mitchell, perhaps you can find some time to brief Doctor Hendrik before you travel." Landry returned to his office, closing the door firmly behind him.

Jackson pulled himself slowly to his feet, trying to find something to say to relieve the tension that seemed to grip the room and suck out the air. He cleared his throat but, unable to think of anything, he simply pushed his glasses up his nose and walked out of the room quickly followed by Carter, who was unconvincingly telling Jackson she had something to discuss with him.

Mitchell lingered a few second longer, hoping that Vala would take the hint but she wasn't moving.

"We leave at zero nine hundred tomorrow. Be in here for a briefing at zero eight hundred," he barked before making his way through the door and vanishing from sight. Amelia released the breath she suddenly realised she had been holding.

"Are you okay?" Vala asked.

Amelia looked at her for a moment then smiled and nodded. "It's all a little overwhelming. A long way from an emergency department in a local hospital, that's for sure."

"Quite a lot of tension in the room, I thought."

"I really didn't notice," Amelia replied with less conviction than she'd been aiming for.

"You're a terrible liar, and I should know. I'm an expert." Vala chuckled. "Do you know Mitchell?"

On the other side of the doorway, Mitchell stood, his back against the wall and his arms folded across his chest. He'd hoped that Vala would leave and give him the opportunity to have it out with Amelia Hendrik…finally…after all these years. Now, he waited for her to answer.

"I only ask because he seemed a little…put out…that you were joining us," Vala continued.

"He's probably as thrilled at the prospect of taking a civilian on his travels as I am at going." Amelia skirted the question.

"That was a politician's answer," Vala said.

She was sharper than Amelia had given her credit for.

"No," she said finally. "I don't know Colonel Mitchell."

Mitchell clenched his teeth so hard they hurt. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so angry. He dragged his fingers through his hair. Yes, he could, and she'd been the cause of that too.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

.

Mitchell drummed the fingers of his right hand on the table on the table, curling the fingers of his left into a fist. He stared down at the file in front of him, but he wasn't reading. He couldn't focus. He'd thought about what he'd say to her, how to approach things and had finally settled on mirroring her decision to pretend they didn't know one another. He wasn't going to get the chance, however. Sergeant Harriman's voice echoed through the base announcing an unauthorised off-world activation. Mitchell jumped from his seat, taking the stairs to the operations room two at a time. Amelia was stood beside Harriman, watching as he monitored the screens and channels for the Iris Deactivation Code. Seconds ticked by and nothing happened then suddenly Harriman called out.

"It's SG21's IDC, sir."

"About time," Mitchell muttered, his brow furrowed. "Open the iris."

"You seem a little…I guess anxious?" Amelia said. Mitchell looked at her for a moment then signed and nodded.

"They're three days overdue," he replied.

"Security to the gate room," Landry called over the internal address system. "Harriman, get a medical team on standby."

The watery wormhole was exposed and within seconds two members of SG21 rushed through.

"Close it, for god's sake!" Colonel Mack Munroe yelled as his colleague dropped to her knees on the metal ramp.

Harriman glanced up at Landry who opened the microphone.

"What about the rest of your team, Colonel?"

"I'll explain but please close the iris," Munroe begged. A bolt of energy shot from the wormhole, hitting the wall to the side of the operations room. Landry nodded, and Harriman closed the iris. Amelia turned and headed for the stairs, Landry and Mitchell hot on her heels.

Munroe pulled himself to his feet, leaning heavily on the metal handrail at the side of the embarkation ramp. He was sweating profusely, and Mitchell could see his racing pulse throbbing beneath the shining flesh of his neck.

"What happened Colonel?" Landry asked.

There was a long silence as Munroe composed himself, watching his Captain as she tried to stay conscious on the ramp beside him. He cleared his throat. "She needs help, Sir."

"The medic's will take care of her. Don't worry. Just try to tell me what happened."

"Sir, everything seemed to be fine. We were greeted like...like old friends, I guess. We were taken to the meeting hall this time. The elders invited us to share a meal with them and then…it all went to shit." He shook his head as though he couldn't bear the memory.

"It's okay. Take your time," Amelia said as she approached, staring at the large patch of dried blood on the front of Munroe's desert combat fatigues. Munroe frowned at her and backed away. "I'm Doctor Hendrik, the temporary CMO. Let's get you on the trolley before you fall down," she smiled, hoping to reassure him.

"Mack Munroe, ma'am," the Colonel replied. Amelia's smile wavered for a split second. She swallowed back a brief flash of trepidation.

"Well, Mack Munroe, there is no need to call me ma'am. Doctor or Amelia will do."

"They attacked." He shuddered as he lay down and the nurse cut away his t-shirt. "We ran but…I don't know…what happened to…Oh god!"

"Did they kill the others?" Mitchell pressed.

"Velez…she saved my life. I can't…I don't…"

"I think that's more than enough for the moment. This man is injured. He needs medical attention," Amelia snapped.

"We need to know what happened to his unit," Mitchell replied. "He's the commanding officer and only two of his unit made it back, _Major_."

"Don't dare try to pull rank on me. I'm not Air Force. Not anymore and right now, this man is my patient, Colonel Mitchell." She pointed down to Munroe's stomach. "He's badly injured." A patch of crimson was spreading outwards, fast. Mitchell took a step away. "Get him transferred now and get an OR prepped. God knows how long that haemostatic dressing has been on there," she shouted to the medical team. "I want to get him sedated as soon as we're in the medical unit and can secure his airway. Tell the trauma surgeon I want him prepped and waiting in the OR."

She watched as the team wheeled him out of the gate room then turned her attention to Velez who was already being cared for. She approached the trolley and looked into her patient's eyes. Her pupils were dilated and the whites of her eyes severely bloodshot. The nurse was already cutting away the t-shirt and quickly revealed a three-inch wound on her right side. It wasn't fresh though. There were signs of scabbing and trickles of long dried blood streaking her stomach. There was also evidence of stitches. Better stitches then she had ever seen in a patient stitched up in the field.

"Get her to the medical unit. Get her stabilised and then I want X-rays and an MRI," she instructed.

"Doctor Hendrik," Landry called out as Amelia headed towards the door with her patient.

"General?"

"It would seem your first off-world trip is postponed," he smiled.

Amelia's relief was palpable. "Imagine my disappointment," she replied. Landry bristled. He wasn't used to being on the receiving end of an attitude like hers and not being able to do much about it.

"As soon as he's ready to talk, I need to know. We have to find out what happened," he snapped.

"I understand, but it's going to be some time. He's seriously injured."

"Then I need Mitchell to get some information from him before you put him under."

Amelia clenched her teeth and drew in a long, exasperated breath.

"Two minutes," Landry said, his voice low and commanding. "We need to determine if a rescue mission is appropriate. I'm sure you'd agree that retrieving the missing men should be a priority if it's possible."

Amelia glanced at Mitchell who was wearing a slightly smug smile she just wanted to slap off his face. "Very well. Two minutes but that really is all I'm going to allow." She didn't wait for any further conversation.

* * *

Colonel Munroe was sat up again when Amelia entered the infirmary, a nurse trying to relieve him of his clothes and allow her access to his wound as he fought against her.

"Doctor Kaufmann?" Amelia asked as she approached the fair-haired man in a white coat.

"Yes?" he said abruptly, frowning at the newcomer.

"I'm Amelia Hendrik. We met briefly yesterday. I don't want to get in your way as you seen to have everything under control. I just wanted to introduce myself and offer my help."

"Of course! You're the new CMO, right?" he asked with a glee she hadn't been expecting.

"Temporary CMO, yes!"

"Delighted to have you here," he said, enthusiastically shaking her by the hand. "I've heard about your work. Very impressive."

"You're very kind but…" She noticed that she no longer had Markus' attention. She followed his line of sight and realised his eyes were fixed on Munroe who was muttering to himself.

"Colonel?" Markus called to him as he moved towards his bed. He looked at him with confusion in his eyes. "It's Doctor Kauffman. You remember me, Mack. We talked about your wife and kids when you were shot a few months back. You were scared that you wouldn't see them again. I promised that you would. We made a bet. You still owe me ten dollars." He smiled warmly at him and Munroe's frown faded. "I need you to stop moving around so much. You're going to rip that IV out."

"Doctor K. I'm sorry. I'm just…I'm so tired and my head is killing me." He looked down at his hand, stained with blood. "What the hell happened?" he cried, his words slurring as he held his hand away from him as if it didn't belong to him. Amelia moved around the room, giving the bed a wide birth but looking at the patient. There was blood running down the back of his neck, soaking into the collar of his DCU's. A nasty head wound, possible skull fracture and the symptoms were becoming more evident with each passing minute. Part of her felt relieved. It would appear that Munroe might not be a problem after all.

"Colonel Munroe…can I call you Mack?" She glanced back at Kaufmann who was filling a syringe with Propofol. "How are you feeling?"

"It's just my head. I think I'm going to throw up." He slapped his hand to his mouth and Amelia passed him a bowl from the trolley. "We have to go back. Can't leave them there. Those people…they were…Jeez…" His hands were shaking as he held the bowl.

"Do you know where you are, Munroe?" she asked.

"Stargate Command. Medical," he said quickly, dropping the empty bowl to the bed and pressing the heels of his hands to his temples.

"That's good, Mack. Do you remember leaving Stargate Command to go to…" She looked around her for some support.

"P four X nine eight two," Mitchell said from the doorway. Their eyes locked for a moment. Amelia gave him a grateful smile.

"Do you remember going there?"

"Sure, I remember stepping through. I remember arriving and then it all just went to hell."

Amelia's gaze flicked to Mitchell who was watching intently. "Mack, when did you leave Stargate Command?" he asked.

"This morning. Zero six hundred. We couldn't have been gone for…more than a few hours. I just can't believe it was…" He stopped and rubbed his head. "Doc, I can't…my right eye…blurred..."

"Mack, you've been off-world for almost four days," Mitchell said.

Munroe's head shot up, his eyes fixing on Amelia with a wild stare that startled her.

"That can't be right."

Amelia reached out.

"STAY BACK," he yelled wildly. "Don't touch me. I'll not let you near me. I know what you want."

Kaufmann approached Amelia with the syringe hidden behind his back, but Munroe seemed to sense there was something wrong. He jumped from the bed and reached for his weapon, surprised to find it was gone.

"You didn't have it when you returned. Do you remember what happened to it?" Amelia asked.

"Just stay away!" he repeated as he moved unsteadily around the bed before launching himself at Kaufmann. Amelia stepped into his path, pushing Kaufmann out of the way and planting her feet apart to maintain her balance, ready for the onslaught, but he never reached her. From the doorway, a bolt of blue light arced through the air, hitting Munroe. He dropped to the ground, moaning in pain.

"What the hell was that?" Amelia cried, staring at the man on the floor as one of the medics dropped to his knees to help Munroe. Mitchell pressed the button on the Zat and it folded itself into a neat little package.

"Neat little thing. It's called a Zat'nik'tel…Zat for short. It stuns…as long as you only use it once."

"I guess I don't need to ask what happens with a second bolt?"

"Not really, no."

"The man has a severe head injury, Colonel. I could have handled him," Amelia said, her face a mask of rage. "Don't ever do that in my medical unit again, understood?" She didn't wait for an answer. She took Kaufmann's arm and pulled him back. "I'm assuming that you have isolation bays here?" she asked.

"We do," he replied.

"May I suggest that Munroe and Velez are isolated then. They can be monitored but remain confined. I don't think we need a repeat performance and I'd really like to keep shooting them to a minimum. People tend to be difficult to talk to when they're writhing around in pain. I'd also recommend we keep them sedated for the time being."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

.

Amelia raised her hand to rap on General Landry's office door, but it swung open as she touched it. The office beyond was deserted. Deciding to wait, she took a seat on a low grey filing cabinet. Through the window, she could see Mitchell sitting alone in the briefing room, a small pile of folders by his side. He was rifling through, searching for something, clearly agitated. She watched him for a moment before decided there would never be a good time. She opened the door that connected Landry's office to the briefing room. The door creaked, and Mitchell looked up. Neither spoke but the tension in Mitchell's face increased as he stood and gathered his files.

"Colonel," she said, stepping towards him.

Mitchell let out a caustic chuckle. "Colonel? Really?" he snapped. "Well, what can I do for you, _Doctor_ Hendrik?"

"What would you prefer I call you?" she replied, calmly.

"What do you want?" he growled at her as he threw the files back on the table, scattering them across the surface.

"I think we should talk."

"I'm busy."

She nodded and took a deep breath. "We can't avoid each other forever."

He said nothing.

"Fine, well I'm going to need some of your time. There are baseline tests that I need to perform so I can monitor you for changes. Questions that I need to ask that you may find uncomfortable."

Again, he didn't answer. Just held her with a piercing, icy stare. She fought back the lump in her throat.

"I'll also need a list of any medications that you might have taken in the last twelve months whether prescribed to you…or not. Anything you might have tried for…recreational purposes."

"Really?" Mitchell folded his arms across his chest, trying to push back the bubbling volcano of anger that was ready to erupt. The muscles of his jaw twitched as he clenched his teeth.

"We need to try to be professional," she said sharply.

His face reddened, and his temper exploded. "What the…" Fury sparked in his eyes, and he addressed her with a vehemence Amelia hadn't thought him capable of. "How the hell you have the audacity…" He stopped, seeing Landry appear in the doorway behind Amelia. She glanced over her shoulder. "How dare you, of all people, suggest I can't be professional?" he continued in a gruff whisper, pointing angrily at her.

She ignored him. "We need to arrange the tests. I know from the schedules that you have a couple of days' downtime due. I'm afraid you'll be spending one of them in the infirmary. If it would make you more comfortable, I can have one of the other doctor's deal with you."

He rolled his eyes again but didn't answer.

"I'll leave it to you, but I expect them to be complete by the end of the week."

"Fine," he mumbled as Amelia rushed from the room and down the stairs.

Mitchell took a deep breath before raising his eyes to meet those of General Landry.

"I don't think you've been completely candid with me, have you, Colonel Mitchell? I think it's quite clear that you and Doctor Hendrik have something of a history and it's time to tell me about it," Landry said, then turned, re-entering his office and leaving the door open. Mitchell followed.

"Sit," Landry ordered.

"It's really not important, sir. It won't affect…" he began but Landry didn't give him chance to get to the end of his sentence.

"If you're about to tell me it won't affect your work, stop. It is already affecting the operational running of my SGC. I can't have senior members of my teams yelling at each other like children," he barked. "Is this why you wanted to take some leave?"

"Yes, sir."

"So, how do you know her?" Landry pressed.

"She was on my medical team when I was in the hospital after the crash," he said quietly.

"Antarctica?"

Mitchell nodded.

"More than your doctor?" Landry ventured.

"No, sir," Mitchell snapped.

Landry left his answer hanging in the air for a moment, giving him the chance to change his mind and be honest. Mitchell said nothing.

"Either way, she has to accompany one of the SG teams to experience off-world travel. Instructions from higher up. She will be the CMO for the foreseeable future, though, so you need to find a way to work this through. Understood?"

"I'll sort it, sir."

"Make it soon, Colonel Mitchell.

"Yes, sir. What about SG21? We have to go."

"Jury's still out on that. We'll be sending a MALP through and then we'll assess it from there. I'm not prepared to lose more men on a hopeless mission. If it's a go, I'll send SG1. From the state of Velez and Munroe, I'm guessing SG21 are going to need some immediate medical attention. I can send Kaufmann with you and assign Doctor Hendrik to SG15. Colonel Holbrook has expressed an interest in working with her."

Mitchell considered for a moment. Colonel Jason Holbrook was a good officer and a good guy, but Mitchell wasn't surprised he'd 'expressed an interest' as Landry had put it. Colonel Holbrook also had something of a reputation with women and they had a tendency to fall for his charms. Amelia was a good-looking woman. There was no way he wasn't at least going to try. Despite the passage of more than three years and the pain she'd caused him, Mitchell felt a surprising pang of jealousy.

"I'll take her. If she wants to know what the Stargate program is all about then this little trip will really show her. An extra pair of hands might be useful." he replied, trying to bring a little levity into his voice. "And if the others are in the same state as Munroe and Velez then a doctor might be exactly what we need."

"Brief her…and leave your personal disagreements this side of the gate, understood?" Landry said.

"Yes, Sir."

* * *

Amelia sat at the desk staring intently at the computer monitor. It was connected to the CCTV cameras in the isolation cells that currently contained the two remaining members of SG21. Velez was still unconscious. Her vitals were stable for the moment. Mack Munroe, on the other hand, was very much awake. She could see his lips moving but, with no audio, she couldn't determine what he was saying, or if he was actually speaking at all. She cursed out loud. It was day three and things were not going according to plan. She looked over at her briefcase, wondering if the cheap burner phone she had brought for this assignment would work so far underground. Not that she knew what she would tell them. The CCTV cameras were centrally controlled, that much she had found out, so until she figured out how to turn them off...

"Bad day?" Major Davis asked as he hovered by the doorway.

Startled, Amelia swung around in her chair. "Is there something that I can help you with?" she asked, dismissively.

Davis shook his head. "Nope," he said and turned.

"Wait" I'm sorry," Amelia called out, jumping to her feet. "I'm just a little distracted." It was a feeble excuse and she knew it, but she was used to pushing people away – keeping them at arm's length. Most didn't try a second time, but Davis was to be commended for his tenacity and she couldn't help but have a little admiration.

"I just wanted to let you know that I'm flying back to Washington," he said with no alteration in his expression.

"Must you?" Amelia said before she could catch herself. She wasn't even sure why it bothered her but it did. Somewhere deep inside she needed him around.

He smiled, trying hard not to be too gratified by her response. "Orders. It's just for a couple of days. You are still my primary mission right now."

"I'm flattered."

"Don't be," he smirked. "I hear that you're going off-world with SG1. Probably wouldn't snap at them like you did with me. They might have to save your life and you don't want them to think about it first." He looked sternly at Amelia for a moment.

"I deserved that," she replied, casting her eyes down to her feet, feeling like a chastised child.

"Yes, you did. Now, how about we start this conversation again?" he smiled.

"When do you leave?" she asked. Davis wondered if the hint of sadness he heard in her voice was genuine or if he was hearing it because he wanted to.

"Early tomorrow. Flight at five."

Amelia raised her eyebrows. "There's a five o'clock in the morning, too? I thought that had been abolished after I left the Airforce."

Davis laughed. She loved to see him laugh. Loved the way the lines formed at the corners of his eyes, his broad smile and how relaxed he made her feel in this jumble of confusion and tension. A little light in her dark world.

"I came to ask you if you'd join me for an early dinner. That way it gives us a chance to eat and I can still get my beauty sleep. I was thinking around six thirty?

"And that way you can be rid of me by seven?"

"Maybe seven thirty if you promise to be on your best behaviour!"

"Well, in that case, how can I refuse?"

"Good. I already booked."

"You were that sure of yourself?"

"Well, you're not the easiest person to get along with so I figured your options would be pretty limited."

"Cheeky b..."

He cut her off. "I'll pick you up at six."

"Where are we going? I need to know how I should dress."

Davis thought back to the jeans and sweater she had worn to go for the burger. He didn't care what she wore. He was certain she could make anything look good. He'd drifted for just a second too long.

"Davis?" she called.

"A seafood place. Overlooks Cheyenne Lake. They have a terrace…"

"Very romantic," she replied, instantly flushing. "Sorry, I didn't mean…"

"Am I interrupting something?" Markus Kaufmann had hesitated in the doorway before bouldering in.

"No, not at all," Amelia replied with evident relief.

"Six," Davis said.

"Oh, wait. Maybe I should meet you there. I've rented a..."

"I know where to find you." He winked at her. An involuntary reflex to the situation and he silently cursed himself.

"Okay, I really feel like I should be slightly creeped out by that," she laughed.

"I'll see you later."

Markus watched him, waiting until he was out of sight, and hopefully, earshot.

"You've been here three days and you're hitting on the staff?" Markus said with a mischievous grin.

"You mean Major Davis? He invited me to dinner!" she laughed. "I get that I've not dated for a while, but things have changed more than I thought if that is me hitting on him."

Markus narrowed his eyes. "Hmmm…anyway, I have some news for you." He took a seat on a stool beside her and the monitor caught his eye. "What the hell is he doing awake?"

"What do you mean? Munroe? He's been up since the crack of dawn," Amelia replied.

"I gave him enough sedative to put an elephant down for a couple of days. He shouldn't even be able to open his eyes, let alone…well…that."

"We need to arrange an MRI, CT. What about blood work?"

"I haven't got anything back from Munroe's yet. We've had the basic results for Velez but we're still waiting for the full analysis."

"And what did the basic results say?"

Markus hesitated. "I'm going to reserve judgement until the full works are back. It's probably nothing. Just…they seem different than her last bloodwork, but I can't exactly put my finger on it."

"Well, keep me posted. Do you have Holmes' medical records here?"

"They're in the database."

"Yeah, well this thing hasn't been very co-operative with my secure access."

"I'll get a copy to you. Think you've found something?"

Amelia shook her head. "I wish I had. Did Holmes report any unusual symptoms before his...episode? And what about Munroe?"

"I don't recall Holmes having any specific issues, but his notes will give us more."

"I should probably talk to his family. He had a brother and an adult daughter, right?"

Kaufmann nodded. "As for Munroe, he reported difficulty sleeping but that isn't uncommon here. I'd given him some tablets for it about a week ago. Short term course. The only time he was ever in here besides that was for the normal post-trip routine medical."

"Nothing else at all? No headaches, dizziness, confusion?" Amelia knew she was clutching at straws, but it would be much easier if his future symptoms could be neatly tied to something already recorded.

"The guy was healthy as an ox. You've seen him. Always in the gym, eating healthily. He was a 'my body is my temple' sort."

"What about these aliens. The Goa'uld? Could he have been infested whilst he was off-world?"

Markus sighed. "The host is taken over completely by a Goa'uld. This is…No, it's totally different. Believe me, if you'd met one, you'd know."

Amelia recalled the photograph of Ba'al from the file. "Perhaps," she replied.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

It was still light as waiter led Amelia and Davis to their table on the terrace overlooking the lake. Tiny lights were strung between wooden posts set at ten-foot intervals and each table had a candle in a glass holding, as yet unlit. Davis walked slightly behind Amelia, admiring the way she looked, the way she moved. She was turning heads and he wasn't surprised. The green sheath dress she wore brought out the colour in her eyes and was complemented by emerald earrings and necklace. Amelia took her seat and Davis waited for the waiter to hand them their menus and take their drinks orders before speaking directly to her.

"You look incredible," he said, instantly wishing he hadn't. He wasn't sure exactly what their relationship was, and he didn't want to shoot himself in the foot, but she did look incredible.

She blushed. "Thanks," she replied. "It's not often I get to wear something so impractical. You look pretty good yourself."

The waiter delivered their drinks and asked if they were ready to order. Neither had even looked at the menu.

"Do you have fillet steak?" Amelia asked. The waiter nodded. "Then I'll take that. Rare."

Davis raised his eyebrows and ordered the same. The waiter collected the menu's and hurried away.

"Rare?"

"If you're going to eat steak you want to taste the meat. Not the grill."

"I'm not arguing," he laughed. "So, how are you finding things?"

"Difficult. I hate the base. I hate being so far underground. I just wish I could pack up and walk away…sorry. I'm whining."

"Why can't you? Walk away, I mean," he asked.

"I'm here to do a job. I've never walked away from anything…almost anything," she said, suddenly thinking of Mitchell. She took a deep breath and forced a smile to her lips. "You are making it more bearable though. I must be a troublesome charge but you're really going above and beyond to help me adjust."

"This isn't work, Amelia. I asked you here because, for some reason that I haven't quite worked out yet, I enjoy your company," he smiled.

"And I came because for some strange reason, I enjoy yours," she retorted. Her stomach fluttered as she looked into his eyes. She stopped herself reaching out and touching his hand. A relationship was out of the question and she needed to be clear. No mixed messages…but it was too late for that. She was already dreading him leaving and looking forward to his return. He was the first man she'd been herself with since…well, for a long time.

As if he sensed her internal conflict, Davis moved the conversation on. "What did you do before you came to the SGC?"

Amelia burst out laughing and he frowned. "I'm so sorry," she said, breathlessly. "I know what you're trying to do and it's really very sweet, but I know that you know exactly what I was doing because I know you were briefed before you came to collect me."

"How the hell could you know that?" he exclaimed.

"General Sizemore. He was a good friend of my father and he's my godfather. We chatted on the phone and I asked about…" She stopped abruptly. She'd asked about Davis.

"About?" He'd already guessed.

"It's not important. So, tell me something about you. We've spent some time together, but I don't feel like I know anything about you."

"Not a lot to tell. My father was from Maine. He was in the army. My mother was from Europe originally. They met in Germany when my father was stationed there. We were never settled in one place for long."

"A US passport but a citizen of the world?" Amelia chuckled, shaking her head. "That's not really what I meant, though. I don't mean any disrespect to your family, but I want to know about you. What makes you tick? What do you enjoy? Who is Paul Davis when he isn't babysitting people for the US Airforce?"

"I'm career military. Joined straight from college. I'd always wanted to join the Airforce although my father wasn't happy. He wanted me to follow in his footsteps but being an MP wasn't for me so I was a bit of a disappointment I think. I enjoy the outdoors when I get the chance. Camping, fishing, hiking."

Amelia raised her eyebrows.

"You're surprised?"

"I confess I am a little. You seemed more the studious type. I was expecting to hear a list of books that you loved or Shakespeare plays that you loved."

"Disappointed?" he asked.

"Not at all. I enjoy being surprised by people. It's rare enough these days."

"Maybe, if you get some time off, I could take you."

"Well, I've never hiked or fish. I'm sure that's no surprise, but I guess I'd be willing to give it a go."

"I have a cabin in…" He stopped and stared at her for a second. "Sorry!" he said. "I'm really sorry. I should have…"

"Don't be sorry. It sounds like fun."

They sat in silence for almost a full three minutes, then Davis smiled, then he laughed. Amelia looked at him, puzzled.

"This is crazy. We're two grown people having dinner and we've managed to turn it into possibly the most awkward meal I've sat through since I bought Jennifer Eccles a burger when I was fifteen years old."

Amelia smiled, then laughed. He wasn't wrong. It was ridiculous.

"Okay, we'll start again. As grown-up's this time," she said.

.

* * *

.

The road through the forest was lit only by the light of the moon and the headlights from his truck. He cursed as he hit another pothole in the rough tarmac, then he spotted it. Slightly to the right and up a well-used dirt track, artificial light shone through the trees. He'd not anticipated coming here so late and wondered if she would even answer the door.

She had heard a vehicle, the sound of an engine carried on the breeze as she sat on the decking of the cabin she had borrowed from a friend. A quick phone call to Adam the day after her arrival had secured his old cabin. She'd known Adam for several years and they had worked together on a number of occasions. He had been surprised that she'd considered living alone in such an isolated spot but knew her well enough to know she could take care of herself. Eventually, he'd relented and handed over the keys. It suited them both. It was a convenient place to meet. Secluded and on a dirt track that would make it obvious if either he or she was being followed. She glanced at her watch and shook her head. It was a strange time for him to choose to visit but there could be no doubting that the vehicle was on the dirt track now. She had seen the flash of headlights as he'd turned the corner off the main road. She listened as the door slammed and knew then that it wasn't Adam. He was obsessive about not slamming his car door. She'd only made that mistake once!

The visitor didn't knock on the door. He hammered, rattling the glasses in the cabinet. Amelia waited, silently holding her breath until the hammering began again. Finally, she stood but by the time she reached the door there was nobody there. There was a truck parked just a few feet away. She didn't recognise it. Instinct took over. She flipped off the light in the lounge, cursing herself for her stupidity in leaving the French doors open. She carefully pulled open a drawer in the cabinet and withdrew the Glock 17 from it's holster, raising the weapon and aiming it directly at the head of the figure that was slipping inside from the deck.

"Put your hands where I can see them," she shouted, her finger resting gently against the trigger.

The shadow didn't obey. Instead it moved further into the room.

"Another step and I'll put a bullet straight between your eyes," she warned.

"Seriously?" Mitchell stepped into the shaft of light from the kitchen door.

Amelia sighed with relief and lowered her weapon. "What the hell are you doing sneaking around, Colonel Mitchell? I could have killed you."

"You'd never have fired," he replied casually. "I know you, remember."

She turned her back to him and slipped the Glock back into the drawer. He was wrong, and he was lucky. She would have pulled the trigger and she'd never missed a target.

"And there we go again with the whole Colonel Mitchell thing," he mumbled as he followed her into the kitchen.

"And again, what do you want me to call you?" she grumbled. "Do you want a beer?" She didn't wait for him to reply. She popped the cap off the Coors light and handed it to him. "So, how did you find me?" She held out a glass.

"GPS," he replied sullenly and took a deliberate swig of beer directly from the bottle; something he knew infuriated her. She rolled her eyes and placed the glass on the worktop.

"Why are you here? It's late."

"I'm here under orders. General Landry told me that we had to 'get this business sorted'," Mitchell said, heading back out of the house to the deck where he'd spotted some seats on his way in.

"You told him?" Amelia cried, incredulous. He didn't answer. "Did he order you to sort it at ten thirty at night?" There was an edge to her voice that irritated Mitchell. He sat and placed the bottle on the floor between his feet, his head bowed, staring at his boots. She joined him, sitting on a bench opposite, clutching her wine glass as though her life depended on it. Still, he didn't look up and there they sat in silence for almost five minutes, both petulantly waiting for the other to speak.

Finally, Mitchell raised his eyes from the floor and looked at her properly for the first time since he arrived. Her hair was tied roughly away from her face into a ponytail making her curls look even wilder. There was a hardness in her eyes that never used to be there, not with him anyway. She looked stressed, harassed even but much to his irritation, he still found her every bit as attractive as the last day he'd seen her.

"I hope I'm not interrupting…anything," he asked. News of her dinners with Major Paul Davis had travelled fast. "I'd assumed you were here on your own." She turned to him, frowning. He glanced down at the pyjamas she wore, which were clearly far too large. "Well, they're not yours are they."

"Oh, I see. They're Adam's. It's his cabin. You remember Adam?" she asked.

Mitchell nodded. "The charming surgeon."

She ignored his acerbity. "He doesn't come up here as often since he got married. I asked him if I could borrow it."

"And his clothes?" Mitchell said, taking another drink.

"It was colder up here at night than I'd expected. I normally sleep…" She stopped herself before the word 'naked' left her lips but she felt the redness creep into her cheeks.

"I remember," he replied, flatly. Amelia pressed her lips together and looked away. She heard him inhale. She heard the decking creak as he stood; watched as he leant over the railing. "Why did you do it?" he asked so quietly, Amelia wasn't sure she'd heard him.

"I'm sorry?" she said,

"I saw the psychologist's initial report. ' _At this time, it is my opinion that Major Cameron Mitchell is not ready to return to active duty'_." He spat the words at her.

"I see," she muttered.

"You knew how much the Airforce meant to me. What did I do to you to make you want to destroy my career?" he asked furiously.

"It was for your own good. It was too soon for you to return to active duty, but I'm glad that it worked out in the end. I was genuinely pleased to hear about your promotion."

"It wasn't up to you to decide. You're not a psychologist. Why did you do it?"

Amelia frowned. "I told you, I had no choice. I was trying to protect you. Besides, you were showing distinct symptoms of PTSD. It had dredged everything up. The stuff from…" She paused and dropped her gaze. "From the middle east…everything. The nightmares were the last straw."

"I never mentioned the nightmares," he yelled. "They shouldn't have been on record."

"Don't…please…There's no point digging it all up," Amelia begged.

"I bet you didn't tell him how you knew though, did you?"

"Stop!"

"I bet you didn't tell him that you were in my bed at the time," he spat.

"Stop it!" Amelia demanded, jumping to her feet. "Please stop it! It isn't relevant."

"It's relevant and it was private," he snapped back, his penetrating blue eyes boring into her. "Or do you sleep with all your patients?"

 _Damn it_ , he instantly regretted his words.

"How dare you!" Amelia felt the fury rising like a fire in her chest, burning out of control. Her hand was a blur as she slapped him firmly across the face.

"Whoa!" he mumbled, rubbing his stubbly cheek.

"Oh god! I'm sorry," she said, automatically reaching out. He flinched away from her.

He shook his head, "I didn't mean that. I shouldn't have said it."

"You make it sound so...sordid. You seem to forget that I sat with you when you woke up screaming from those nightmares. That I sat up all night with you and listened while you talked about what you'd been through. I tried to help you when there were things you weren't allowed to tell me and I _never_ pressed you. I lived it with you and I would have done anything…" A sob caught in her throat, stealing her voice for a moment. "If you had any idea how hard it was for me to write that letter; how hard it was for me to walk away when I knew…you don't have a clue," she said, leaning on the railings.

"Then, why do it?"

"I had to. I should never have allowed it to start in the first place." Unshed tears glimmered in her eyes. "There are things that I can't explain. I was still legally married to Joe. He knew about us and he was dangerous."

"What?"

"He could have destroyed you," she replied. "And I couldn't let that happen."

"You told me you were divorced," Mitchell said, incredulous.

"I'd signed the papers. Joe and I hadn't had a life together for over a year when I met you but when he found out about us…he refused to sign."

"Why?"

"He knew how I felt about you and he couldn't stand the thought I could feel…anything…for someone who wasn't him," Amelia cried, her voice raised in frustration.

Mitchell placed his hand on hers, but she shrugged him off.

"You should leave," she said, a tear escaping and rolling down her cheek. He reached up and gently wiped it away with the pad of his thumb.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

She sighed. "It's complicated."

"I know a good lawyer,"

"It's too late for..."

"You took him back?" Mitchell felt his nails digging into his palm.

Amelia laughed "What sort of idiot do you take me for? Joe died in a motorcycle accident."

"I'm…sorry," Mitchell stammered, not quite knowing what was the right thing to say under the circumstances.

"Don't be. He still hadn't signed the papers on the day he died. I found them when I cleared out his apartment. I don't think he had any intention of signing them. I thought once he was dead, that I'd be free of him…but it doesn't work like that."

They both stood, silently staring out into the forest.

"Do you think we can put all this behind us?" she asked.

"I don't know," Mitchell replied.

Amelia's shoulders slumped, and she nodded. "That's honest."

"You left me a letter, Millie." He remembered every word of it, short as it had been. "That was cold," he said, the muscles of his jaw twitching as he clenched his teeth.

He was the only person who had ever got away with calling her Millie. In the end, she had loved hearing him say it and now, just the sound of it brought painful memories flooding back.

"It wasn't how I wanted it to end, Cam." she cried. "But believe me, I'm paying for it," she added under her breath.

"What do you mean?" he asked but she ignored him.

"I'm really sorry it had to be a letter. I was too afraid to face you. I was afraid you'd try to change my mind and I couldn't risk staying."

She picked up the empty beer bottle and her wine glass and walked back inside, depositing them on the kitchen counter. Mitchell followed her, grabbing another beer from the fridge as she poured herself a glass of wine.

"I would've," he said quietly.

"I'm sorry?" she asked.

"I would've," he repeated. "…asked you to stay. Probably begged. I was crazy about you."

Amelia sipped her wine and placed the glass slowly and deliberately down onto the surface, trying to give herself time to think; to prevent herself admitting that he wouldn't have had to beg. She would have capitulated long before it had come to that. Stupid really. She would never have left him if the choice had been hers.

"I'm sorry, Cam. I might not have gone about it the right way…but it was the right thing to do. It was also three years ago. We've both moved on. I'd like to think that we could find a way to work together without all this…business being a problem." Amelia glanced at the clock on the wall beside the cooker. "It's late."

Mitchell took a final mouthful of beer and followed her to the door, searching for the right thing to say but his mind was spinning.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he managed finally.

She watched as he made his way to the car. The lights flashed orange as he pressed the button on his key fob, unlocking the car and reaching for the handle

"I missed you," she blurted out then clamped her lips together as though they had betrayed her.

Her words smashed against the walls he had built up against her like a sledgehammer. "Millie…" he sighed, his shoulders drooping, his eyes fixed on the key in his hand.

"I'm sorry. I meant…" She took a deep breath "I just didn't want you to think that I never thought about you…that I never looked back. You meant everything to me but…" she paused.

"What?" he asked

"I think we both knew that it had run its course," she explained. "I'll see you at the briefing in the morning." She smiled and went inside, closing the door softly behind her.

He heard her turn the key in the lock and slide the bolt across the front door of the cabin as he climbed into his car. Seconds later the porch light went out. He slipped his key into the ignition and started the engine then leaned back in his seat, his eyes closed. His jaw ached from clenching and his head throbbed with the tension. Frustration finally got the better of him and he slammed his hands on the steering wheel. "Damn it, Millie!"


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Amelia pulled up outside the small single storey house and surveyed the street. Perfectly groomed lawns stretched along both sides of the street. It was Sunday and people were washing their cars, children were playing, neighbours were chatting. Not what she would have hoped for really. Anonymity worked better for her in situations like this. She took a deep breath, opened the car door and slid out. She automatically checked her weapon, grabbed her briefcase and headed for the door. She didn't get to knock. A short, slender blonde woman had opened the door before Amelia had even reached the steps.

"I have nothing to say!" The woman folded her arms across her chest defiantly. "I'm not going to give you an interview. He's my father, not an exciting story for a tabloid. You people are sick!"

Amelia held out her card. "Mrs Avery, I'm not here to drag your father across the newspapers. My name is Amelia Hendrik. I'm a consultant Neurologist seconded to the US Airforce. I just want to find out what happened and help your father if I can. It would perhaps be better if we didn't conduct our business in the street though."

The woman seemed to consider this for a moment, staring at the card that Amelia held out but not taking it from her. Her shoulders sagged. "My name is Madison," she said, finally. "Come inside."

Amelia quickly followed her inside and closed the door.

"I'm sorry, Doctor Hendrik. I've had all kinds of vultures knocking on my door since this happened."

"Please, call me Amelia and there's no need to apologise. I can imagine. All I want to do is help. If his actions were a result of a medical condition, then I will find it. From everything I've been told, your father was not an aggressive man."

"He wouldn't hurt a fly. Certainly, would never have hurt his family. We always wondered how he'd got on so well in the military. It just didn't seem like 'him' if you know what I mean." They walked through to the kitchen and Madison offered Amelia a seat at the kitchen table. "Can I get you something to drink? I just made lemonade."

Amelia accepted a glass. "I've been over his medical records from the base and I couldn't see that he reported anything out of the ordinary. It isn't uncommon, though, for dedicated military personnel to conceal anything that they think might threaten their career. Do you recall your father talking about headaches, dizziness…anything at all?"

Madison stared down into her lemonade, her expression flickering between resolve and conflict. Eventually, she looked up. "You said you're seconded to the Airforce. You're not military yourself?"

"Civilian," Amelia replied.

"If I tell you something, are you obligated to report it to them?"

Amelia shook her head. "I'm a doctor first and foremost. I only report back anything that might be relevant to the safety of other service personnel. If it has no bearing, then it has no need to be in my report."

Madison took a deep breath. "About a month ago he started talking about a secret project he was involved in. He said he wanted to tell me, but it would put me in danger. He said he was going to 'blow the lid off it' and he might not come out alive." Tears were welling in Madison's eyes. Amelia opened her briefcase on the pretext of handing Madison a tissue. She palmed a small glass vial and closed the briefcase again.

"You said that was a month ago."

Madison nodded. "It seemed to get worse. Rambling about alien technology and invasions. I honestly thought he was losing his mind. I begged him to go and see a doctor, but he insisted there was nothing wrong with him. The day he killed his wife…"

"Sorry…his wife?" Amelia interrupted.

"She was his second wife. Not my mother. The day he killed her, he called me. He told me that everything he'd said was the truth. That nobody would believe him, but he had a document. He'd hidden it but that it proved everything he was saying."

"Did you find it?" Amelia asked, her body tensing. Madison seemed like a nice woman, devastated by the recent horrific events but that wouldn't stop Amelia doing what was necessary to protect the project.

"No." She sighed and chewed her lower lip. Amelia waited. She had interviewed enough people to know there were two sure-fire ways of getting the information you needed. In this case, she was opting for the less labour intensive. Waiting and letting her subject talk. "I didn't look, to be honest. I think his mind snapped. I don't know what he was involved in, but someone should put a stop to it before it does the same thing to other good men. He swore he didn't touch her. Swore to me that it was someone else, sending him a warning to keep his mouth shut but the police investigated and there was no evidence that there had been anyone else in the house." She stared into her glass and then suddenly looked up. "He did keep a…a sort of diary."

"Do you have it?" Amelia asked. Madison nodded, stood and vanished into the hallway. Amelia shuffled the vial further up her fingers and coughed to disguise the sound as she snapped the top off.

"As I say," Madison said as she returned with the cheap spiral bound notepad in her hand. "I've had a look through and it just seems to be…well rambling and random pictures if I'm honest but you might see something that I've overlooked."

"May I take this with me?" Amelia asked as she took the book from Madison. The woman nodded. "Thank you for your time, Madison." She picked up her glass and finished the lemonade, carefully watching as Madison did the same.

"Are you going to speak with my father?" Madison asked.

"Yes, I plan to go in the next couple of days." She stood and made her way to the door. The two women shook hands.

"Doctor Hendrik, when you see him ask him about 'trust'. He kept going on and on about trust and how it was the reason he was in this mess. It seemed important and I just wondered if…I don't really know. The psychiatrist suggested that his wife was cheating but there was just no way…"

Amelia forced a smile and nodded. "I'll do that. Thank you. I'll be in touch."

The door was closed by the time Amelia reached her car. She slipped inside and pulled out her phone. It rang twice before it was answered at the other end.

"She doesn't know anything for certain but she said her father had a document. If it exists, we need to find it. I need to see him." Amelia said.

"Make it soon, Hendrik. I need to know what he knows. For now, they just think he's a madman. We might need to neutralise the threat though," the voice on the other end asked.

"She gave me a notepad. I'll read through and then I'll pay him a visit."

"And the daughter? She'll not be any trouble?"

"No."

"Did anyone see you visiting her?"

"Half the street. It's Sunday and it's a beautiful day. That, and she yelled at me from the door before I even got up the driveway but they'll assume I was another reporter. There have been a few of them hanging about according to Madison."

"Keep your head down, Hendrik. We can't afford any mistakes."

"I know what I'm doing!" she snapped. She did, and until recently she had never questioned it.

.

Mitchell paced the briefing room, intermittently looking at his watch and the door. He wasn't sure if he was irritated by her tardiness or hoping that she wouldn't turn up at all. He heard her footfall on the steps as she entered from the operations room and his stomach lurched.

"You're late," he said, taking his seat and shoving a copy of the mission briefing across the table to her. He couldn't look at her.

"I was early actually so I went to observe the embarkation of SG15. Jason very kindly offered to take me with the team, but I felt that I could be more useful where you're going."

"Jason?" he mumbled under his breath but said nothing more on the subject. Instead, he launched into a speech he'd spent half the night thinking about. The other half had been spent tossing and turning in bed, trying to push out the memories that had resurfaced and shut off long since buried emotions that were churning inside him. After a sleepless night, part of him was regretting not agreeing to have Amelia travel with a different team.

"Off-world travel can be a bit rough. We don't know what we're going to find on the other side. It's important that the team work as a unit which means obeying instructions. Don't wander off. Don't eat anything or drink anything that you didn't take through with you. Don't go trying to be a hero. It's a desert planet. You'll need to make sure you wear the right kit. There's a list in the folder. Make sure you stick to it. The planet is susceptible to sandstorms. If you end up in the middle of one of those, you'll be glad you listened to me."

"Very considerate," she replied.

He looked up from the folder, meeting her gaze for the first time since she had entered the room. "When I said that you needed to do as you're instructed, I meant it. You'll be safe enough if you obey orders, don't ask questions and watch your back. I've not lost a man yet and I don't want you being the first. It's hard enough having to take civilians through…"

"I didn't want to go at all, remember?" she interrupted.

He nodded. "Any questions?"

"Plenty," she replied. "Will I be issued with a firearm?"

"No, not this time."

"Wait! This time? I don't plan on making a habit of this. I'm not a part of your band of merry men. I'm a doctor and my work is here, on Earth in a medical unit. I'm really not comfortable..." Her fear was tangible.

"You'll be fine. As I said, first time can be a bit rough…"

"I'm more concerned about what we're going to find on the other side – assuming we make it to the other side and our atoms aren't rearranged into something from an Alien movie. You've seen the state of Velez. You saw how Munroe was going to attack Doctor Kaufmann. If the people on that planet are suffering from the same thing then they could be aggressive…murderous even. We don't know if this condition is progressive."

"The MALP showed nothing near the gate and there's sure as hell nowhere to hide."

She sighed, rolling her eyes and giving up. "You'll be armed though, right?"

Mitchell chuckled and shook his head. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

A memory jolted in the back of her mind. Those same words. The first time she had ever ridden a horse. The first time he'd taken her home to meet his parents.

"I thought you said you were brought up in the country? You must have ridden horses." Mitchell had cried as he'd helped her into the saddle of the chestnut stallion.

"It was a cottage, Cam. Not a bloody country estate. I've never been near a horse."

"I'm not going to let anything happen to you," he had reassured her.

"Anything else?" Mitchell's voice cut in.

"No," she said abstractedly.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

Her attention snapped back. "Fine. I'll meet you in the embarkation room in…" She glanced at her watch. "Half an hour."

"You know, we just call it the gate room," he smiled.

.

Amelia stared at the watery blue circle shimmering before her. Jackson had already vanished. Colonel Carter and Vala were already halfway up the ramp but she was almost certain her boots had been glued to the floor. Mitchell glanced at her from the corner of his eye.

"Time to move, Hendrik," he said as he watched Carter and Vala follow Jackson through the gate. As he moved past her his hand accidentally caught hers and her heart skipped. She cursed in her head. She was done with him, she told herself. No going back.

"Right," Amelia said. She took a deep breath and walked up the ramp. Tentatively, she reached out and touched the fluid-like barrier.

"It won't hurt a bit," Mitchell said, shoving her through and following immediately behind.

She emerged on the other side staggering and dropped to her knees, promptly throwing up her breakfast. Carter squatted beside her and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. Amelia's jacket was open and as she knelt, Carter was sure she caught a glimpse of a concealed holster.

"First time's always the worst. I'm surprised Mitchell didn't warn you though," she said, casting a censorious look at Mitchell who simply rolled his eyes.

"He did. I underestimated how bad," Amelia she said as she pulled herself to her feet and rinsed her mouth out with water from the canister she'd been given, spitting it onto the floor.

"Alright, boys and girls, let's move out," Mitchell said, setting off at a march. Carter and Vala quickly followed but Amelia hesitated for a moment, looking around, taking in the surroundings.

"We're not tourists, Doctor Hendrik," Mitchell yelled to her, walking backwards as he watched her.

"I think that rather depends on your definition, Colonel Mitchell," Amelia bit back.

He turned away and continued walking. Jackson looked at him for a moment, appearing determined to speak but unable to bring himself to do so.

"What?" Mitchell said staring straight ahead.

"Bit harsh? It's her first time off-world. I remember the first time you went through."

Mitchell glanced at him but continue silently at his marching pace.

"What's going on with you two?" Jackson ventured.

"Nothing," Mitchell replied.

"Come on, Mitchell. I'm not blind."

"It's a long story and this isn't the time," Mitchell replied, picking up his pace.

Carter shrugged as she joined Jackson. "I don't know what's got into him. He's so..." she began.

"I do and she's right behind us," Vala whispered. Carter frowned and shook her head. "Oh, come on. Don't tell me I'm the only one who's noticed. I think there's something going on between Colonel Mitchell and the good doctor."

"I can tell you what I did notice," Carter whispered to Jackson. "Our Doctor Hendrik is armed."

.

Amelia jogged to catch up, her eyes still searching and a frown furrowing her brow. Finally, in the distance, she could see what appeared to be a settlement. It looked like something from a film set. A huge pair of wooden gates stood open in the protective walls and Amelia could see movement within. She discreetly felt for her weapon. As they entered the town, the people seemed not to notice them as they went about their business, wandering slowly- a little too slowly Amelia thought, around the town square. Ramshackle buildings nestled against the outer wall. Most were wooden, with rooves that seemed unlikely to shelter the inhabitants. At the far end, beyond the town square and the communal well, was a larger building made of stone. Amelia squinted and raised her hand to her forehead to block the sun as she gazed around. In the distance stood a large grey stone building. It appeared to sit both within and beyond the walls, going back further than Amelia could see. As she stared, a panel in the door slid open. She heard the sound of metal grinding against metal as it slammed shut again.

"Colonel Mitchell," she called out without removing her eyes from the door in the distance. There was no answer. She turned around and found herself alone. "Great, thanks a lot," she mumbled to herself. She pulled the rucksack from her back and withdrew some clear plastic tubes.

Unscrewing the yellow lids, she approached the well. Carefully, she drew the wooden bucket to the top and dipped the tube in, collecting a sample of the less than appealing water. She placed it into a foam lined box to protect it and then repeated the exercise with the sand at her feet. She'd have the lab run tests when they returned to the SGC. She stuffed the box back into her rucksack and brushed her hands off on her trousers. As she looked up she noticed that the door in the grey stone wall was ajar. She glanced around. The rest of SG1 seemed otherwise occupied. She considered for a moment, staring at fixedly at the door ahead of her until curiosity got the better of her.

Cautiously, she made her way across the town square, her heavy black boots sank into the soft, powdery sand. She withdrew the Glock 17 she had concealed in her waistband and took the ten steps at the front of the building two at a time. Holding the weapon steady in her right hand she gently pushed the door further open. She realised that the door was not wood, as it appeared. It was metal. Relieved the hinges didn't give her away, she moved inside. Pressing her back against the wall, she pointed the gun towards the door and pushed it closed. She felt herself relax a little when she discovered nobody was hiding behind it. As her eyes became accustomed to the limited light she was able to take in her surroundings. It looked exactly as she had expected it to from the outside. A relatively large room with grey stone walls and floor. There was a narrow staircase visible through a low doorway at the far side of the room. To the left, there was a corridor. It would have been the perfect medieval setting except for one thing. The light, although dim, was not coming from traditional fiery torches. It was coming from an artificial power source. With cautious step, she made her way along the corridor. Her boots didn't make a sound against the stone slabs. Her eyes darted left and right, looking for a doorway but the walls were solid. By the time she had reached the end of the corridor, her disappointment was almost palpable. A dead end. She stood perfectly still for a moment, listening. She held her breath, concentrating harder, then turned sharply towards the wall that blocked the end of the corridor. She raised her hand and touched it. It wasn't stone. It wasn't even rough. It was cold and smooth, metallic. She pushed. It didn't move. Steadily she ran her hands down the wall on either side. One of the stones moved. She re-holstered her gun and removed a hunting knife, ramming it behind the panel. It flipped open and she jumped back. Inside, there were a number of coloured crystals.

"Well, I doubt that King Arthur installed that," she muttered to herself.

"No, he didn't," came a low, forbidding voice. Amelia felt something press against her spine. "Please place the weapon on the floor and step away."

.

Mitchell looked around the village. The ill-fitting doors of the numerous houses were closed but he was sure that they were being watched and then he saw it. A small, black box shape, sat in the upper window of one of the houses. He walked closer and it moved, the sun glinting off the lens. CCTV, or a close approximation anyway. He looked over to Carter and spoke to her from the corner of his mouth.

"I don't think these guys put those up," he said.

"No, it seems a little out of place, doesn't it?" Carter replied.

"Colonel Mitchell," Vala called as she joined them. "Doctor Hendrik is…"

"She'll have to wait, Vala," Mitchell replied irritably then returned his attention to Carter. "They're all over,"

Vala pressed her lips together and waited. She watched him as he looked around the village, spotting more and more of the little black camera's, noting their positions in his mind.

"Right, Carter, Vala, Jackson, Hendrik," he called out. The group gathered together. Still, Vala remained silent. Mitchell's eyes went from face to face. He sighed and lowered his head for a moment, shaking it slowly. Raising his face again he turned from his colleagues and yelled out Amelia's name.

"She won't hear you," Vala said smugly.

"Why?" Mitchell asked.

"Because she disappeared inside that." She pointed to the building at the other end of the village.

"Damn it! That woman's enough to make a preacher cuss!" Mitchell said under his breath. "This is why I hate civilians."

"All civilians or just that one," Vala said, attempting her most innocent expression and failing. Mitchell glared at her and headed off through the square.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Amelia hesitated, wondering if he was alone and if she could…or should…take him down. Finally, she lay the knife on the floor and stood with her arms out to her sides. If push came to shove, she still had the Glock and there was no way this guy was taking that off her without a fight.

"Turn slowly," the voice said. Amelia obeyed. She wasn't sure what she had expected but the man stood before her certainly wasn't it. He was tall, she guessed about six three, young and dressed in what appeared to some sort of uniform. Both the trousers and the tunic were darkish grey in colour, almost camouflaging him against the surrounds. His white blonde hair was cut very short and his eyes were the palest blue she had ever seen. He reminded her of a book she'd read when she was at school. She struggled to recall the name of it though.

"Who are you?" A second man had appeared, his features startlingly similar to the first man but his voice was softer though, less hostile.

"I am Doctor Amelia Hendrik. We mean no harm or disrespect," she replied. The two men looked at each other for a moment.

"We?" the first man asked.

"I came with others. Searching for missing friends."

"There are more of you?" the second man asked, a hint of alarm in his voice.

His colleague turned to him and spoke in a language that Amelia could not understand but she gathered enough to know that they were having a rather heated disagreement.

The second man stepped forward and said, "Forgive us. We do not often receive visitors and to have received so many in so short a time makes us nervous. I am Marlag. This is my brother, Afran."

Amelia smiled. "Could I…lower my arms?" she asked.

"Of course," Marlag replied.

"The others, the people who came through before me…two have not returned."

Again, there was a furtive glance between the two men.

Afran placed his hand against the panel and the stone wall, that had appeared to solidly block their way, vanished as if it had never existed. Beyond, the scene could not have been more different. The walls were white, the floor a bright metal. The lighting was vastly brighter. People were coming and going, crossing the main corridor and entering the numerous rooms that led off it. They paid no attention to Amelia and her escorts.

"You will come with us," he said, pointing his weapon directly at her chest and indicating for her to move ahead.

Marlag cast his brother a censorious frown. "Please, come with us and we shall see that you are given something to drink and eat. I am sure that our Commander will wish to meet you. He is a scientist also," Marlag corrected but Amelia noticed that, despite his warm words, he still had his weapon in his hand and pointed at her.

"I don't wish to inconvenience anyone. It has been lovely to meet you, but I really think I should…" She didn't finish her sentence.

"Hendrik, exactly what part of 'don't wander off' did you struggle with?" Mitchell's voice echoed down the corridor. Marlag and Afran turned towards the newcomers and straight into Mitchell's P90. "Put the weapons down and back away from her."

"What are you doing, Colonel?" Amelia asked, glaring at Mitchell.

"Saving your sorry ass," he replied, making no attempt to disguise his irritation. "We've been here for five minutes and you manage to get yourself into trouble."

"My 'sorry ass' as you so eloquently put it, does not need saving. Afran and Marlag were about to introduce me to their Commander who may be able to help us," she replied, fury sparking in her eyes.

"They do have you at gunpoint," Carter said in support of her colleague.

Marlag lowered his weapon. "A sign of good faith," he said. Afran reluctantly followed suit.

"Colonel?" Amelia stared at him, unblinking, until he did the same.

The stand-off finally at an end, Amelia breathed a sigh of relief.

"Follow me," Afran barked, leading the way into the clinical surroundings.

.

The office of the Commander was large. Floor to ceiling windows flooded the room with light and through them, rather than the desert scene they had left, parkland stretched out to the edge of a forest in the distance. Children played happily, and adults walked, enjoying the sunshine. The man sat at the desk was also a surprise. He was younger than Amelia had expected. He looked up as they entered, and a warm, welcoming smile spread across his sun-kissed face. His eyes were the same pale blue as Marlag and Afran, but his hair was a darker, sandy blonde and worn slightly longer and swept back. He stood, pulling himself to his full six feet and extended a hand in greeting.

"Welcome, welcome," he said as Mitchell stepped forward and shook the hand he offered. "I am Commander Yellan."

"Colonel Mitchell," he replied, unable to match the warmth of his host. "This is Colonel Carter, Doctor Jackson, Vala Mal Doran and Doctor Hendrik."

"You are all very welcome to Zertan. It is so nice to receive visitors."

"Thanks," Mitchell replied.

"You came through the portal…from Earth?" Yellan asked.

"We did," Mitchell said. "I'm trying to find a couple of guys who came through before us. Couple of days ago with two other officers."

Yellan's expression clouded and a frown furrowed his brow. "Yes, we found one of your men. We brought him to our facility and our medics are doing what they can but…I'm afraid he is very sick."

"Is? So, he's alive?" Carter asked.

"Yes."

"And the other?" Mitchell asked.

Yellan shook his head. "There was only one. If your other man was left outside the facility, then…it is unlikely he survived."

"What do you mean?" Mitchell asked.

"Well, if we have not seen them then they must still be out there…in the desert. The temperatures are extreme," Marlag replied.

"But he could have been taken in by one of the villagers?" Vala said, stepping forward.

"Unlikely, but not impossible," Yellan conceded.

"We noticed technology out there that seemed a little more your thing than theirs. Cameras. Any chance they might have recorded what happened?" Mitchell asked.

Amelia noticed the slight widening of Yellan's eyes, but his smile quickly returned to his lips. He looked at Marlag.

"Review the recordings," he instructed. Marlag saluted and left. "As you are here, perhaps I could give you a tour of our facility. After I have taken you to your comrade, of course."

"Just one more thing. The travellers who did return to us are critically ill. If you have been able to assist one of the others perhaps you could share your methods and I can apply them back on Earth.

Yellan stared at her for a moment, his eyes narrowed, suspicious. He appeared to run the sentence through his mind before nodding. "I will arrange for you to speak with Surusu. He is our senior clinician. There is no-one better. Your friend is in good hands."

"Thank you," Amelia smiled.

"Follow me," he said and led the way from the room.

.

Amelia pulled on the mask she had been given and a pair of blue surgical gloves and followed the senior clinician into the small white room.

"He was very sick when he was brought here," Surusu said with a slight tutting sound and a shake of the head.

"Major North," Amelia whispered to herself. Despite his appearance, she knew him immediately from the photograph in his file. His skin appeared grey, his eyes were closed, and machines surrounded him, pumping oxygen, providing fluids and apparently circulating his blood.

"Can you explain…what happened and what you're doing to help him," she asked Surusu.

"We have to...clean...his blood. The environment is hostile. Not just the heat but the inhabitants. They are accustomed to the plague they carry but others are not. We are not. That is why we have the generated atmosphere. It keeps us safe. When you entered our facility, you went through a series of decontamination points. You would not notice them and that is the point. To become as sick as your friend…it must have entered his body. If we can clean his blood and remove the contaminants, then he may have a chance of survival."

"So, there's no way we can take him home?"

The man laughed. "Not at the moment. Perhaps in a day or two."

"Is it airborne?"

"Not that we have found."

"But you still seal yourself in this artificial environment?"

Surusu nodded. "The outsiders are carriers. If we come into contact with them, there is a danger the disease could be transmitted. Their skin is broken and raw. Cross-contamination is a permanent danger. We do what we can to help them. We give them food and ensure their water is clean. We cannot cure them though. We must do everything we can to protect ourselves. Besides, we are not native to this world. We cannot tolerate the environment."

Amelia nodded but thought back to the sample she had taken. Not what she would have described as clean water but perhaps that was not their sole supply. "I'd like to examine him if I could," she said. "Perhaps take blood samples. I might be able to use it to find a cure, or at least something that will buy us some time."

"Buy some time? Forgive me. I do not understand."

"I have two patients on Earth, potentially suffering from this virus. If I could take a sample of his blood I might be able to come up with an anti-toxin or some medicine that will allow them to survive long enough that I can cure them. With your help…"

"Absolutely impossible."

Amelia stared at him for a moment. "Why?"

"I cannot allow you to take his blood. Just the smallest contaminated amount could cause a pandemic. There is no vaccine. It could kill us all."

"I understand," she replied. She didn't, and she wasn't about to settle for 'no'. "May I examine him?"

Surusu paused for a moment and then smiled and nodded. "I am sure that can do no harm."

"And his medical records? I'd like to see what you've been doing. I might be able to take away something from the work you've done with this patient." she asked. She had spotted the computer console on the desk in the far corner of the room. No windows and the screen pointed in the wrong direction to catch her reflection.

"Anything I can do to assist." He did exactly as she had expected, moving to the console and turning his back. She quickly stuffed her hand into her pocket, pulling out a small syringe and jabbing it into the patient's vein. The liquid that was drawn was far from a normal human colour, but she didn't have time to worry about it. She slipped the cap back on and quickly hid it again.

.

The village was still deserted as they passed through the square on their way back to the Stargate and home. The recorded footage had turned up nothing and the team were subdued. Mitchell felt it was a failed mission. Even the promise of future trade and the offer of assistance to help the sick airmen seemed a hollow victory. Only one airman recovered, and he was still leaving him behind. Amelia had tried to tell him it was okay. That he shouldn't worry, and that the airman was in good hands, but it had seemed to be little consolation to Mitchell. Perhaps because her assurances lacked conviction. Unsurprising as Amelia didn't believe it herself. Vala and Jackson were walking slightly ahead, Jackson keen to get away from the searing heat of the desert environment as soon as he could. Vala was tagging along to annoy him – her current favourite pastime. Colonel Carter's eyes darted from side to side as they walked, the watchful locals making her nervous. Mitchell, on the other hand, was distracted. He watched Amelia from the corner of his eye. She had a hardness about her that he hadn't seen before. They'd been close – more than close - for over a year, or he thought they had, but she was almost a stranger to him now. He wondered if Carter had been mistaken when she had told him about the weapon she had seen concealed in Amelia's jacket. She had professed to hate weapons of any kind after having to put so many men and women back together again following gunshot and shrapnel wounds. It seemed incredible to him that she would have one now.

The villager yelled as he emerged from a property on the edge of the village and barrelled towards them, screaming something incomprehensible. He was a tall, thin man with wild eyes and a Zat in his hand. As he ran he pressed the button and unfolded it. He fired. A direct shot at Jackson who didn't have time to react. He hit the ground hard, moaning in agony. Vala dropped to her knees beside him. Amelia spun, withdrew her Glock and fired. The bullet struck the villager in the forehead and he crumpled to the ground, the sand absorbing his blood. Carter stared, wide-eyed, agape.

"What the hell?" Mitchell cried. "You killed him!"

Amelia made her way over to the body, nudging him slightly with her booted foot and looking down into his lifeless eyes.

"Yes, I did," she replied. Her voice was like ice through the desert heat. Emotionless, she bent, picked up the Zat. "Perhaps I wouldn't have needed to if you'd have given me one of these." She slipped it into the pocket of her combat jacket but Mitchell grasped her wrist before she withdrew her hand again.

"I'll take that," Mitchell said. Amelia reluctantly handed it over. "And that one," he continued, pointing to the Glock.

"Over my dead body," she smiled back at him.

He curled his fingers around the top of her arm and leaned towards her. "What the hell happened to you, Amelia? I thought you doctors had some sort of oath," he said in a low, brusque voice.

"We doctors also have a keen sense of our own mortality. Would you rather I let Doctor Jackson die? Now, might I suggest we move on. The natives are getting restless," she replied, looking over his shoulder.

Mitchell let go and turned, the active Zat in his hand. The small throng of people was moving closer, but their attention appeared to be fixed on the body of their fallen friend.

"Move out!" Mitchell called. Vala had helped Jackson to his feet and despite the slight shaking and tingling in his body, he had his Zat in his hand. Amelia had not re-holstered her weapon and had it pointed at the crowd. Mitchell shook his head. They were now surrounding the body. A woman was on her knees, sobbing loudly. Several of the men furtively glanced over their shoulders at the retreating visitors, rage in their faces. The team picked up their pace, Jackson and Vala running ahead to open the gate. The gate turned and finally, the wormhole formed. Jackson sent the IDC and impatiently waited for confirmation. As he received clearance, Mitchell and Carter reached him. Mitchell paused, looking over his shoulder for Amelia. She was running up behind and had several angry villagers on her tail.

"Hendrik!" Mitchell cried out. She stopped and turned. Carefully she aimed and pulled the trigger. Two shots rang out and two of the men dropped, screaming in pain, their ankles shattered. It was enough to stop the others in their tracks.

"Go!" she yelled to the team as she ran towards them. Only when she was mounting the steps did the team walk through the Stargate. Amelia hesitated on the platform for a moment. She caught her breath and surveyed the area surrounding the gate. There was a figure, some way off, struggling to run through the sand, his hands aloft in surrender. She holstered her weapon and made her way back down the steps never considering she could be stranding herself with the enraged villagers.

He was an elderly man, his thin, wispy white hair worn long. His skin was dark and leather-like. A side effect of his desert home, she assumed.

"Please…do not...harm." He held out his hand. She could see a collection of shining objects sat in the centre of his palm. "Yours."

Amelia approached him, watching him carefully. His English was limited, but it suddenly made her wonder how these people and Zertanian's came to have any knowledge of English at all. "Throw it," she demanded. He did as she asked, and she snatched it from the air. She turned it over in her hand. "Oh God!" she whispered to herself. The man stood before her, sheltering his eyes from the growing wind, whipping up the sand. "Where did you get this?"

He stared blankly at her for a moment.

"Found. Where?" she repeated.

"Your friend. Gave him to the sand," the old man said sadly.

"Gave him to the sand? What does that mean, exactly?" she barked at him.

"Spirit..." The old man looked to the sky as he spoke.

"He's dead?"

"Not dead. Evil dies. They will die." He waved his hand towards the village. "Friend will live." Again, he pointed to the sky.

Amelia shook her head. Religion had never been high on her agenda and it was even less important now. She had to get back and inform General Landry that Marsh wasn't coming back. Worse still, someone would have to explain it to his wife.

She jogged back up the stairs and stepped through the gate. She didn't hear the crackle of electricity echo through the desert or see the old man drop to his knees, blood pouring from the hole in his chest. He fell forward into the sand, his singed flesh smoking.

The men approached the body and Marlag stared down at it for a moment before spitting viciously. "Traitor!" he barked, then turned to the two troopers at his side. "Collect his corpse. Take it to the village and make sure the others see what happens to those who betray us."

He removed a long, thin black cylinder from the pocket of his combat jacket and made his way up the steps of the Stargate. He fixed it carefully to the side of the gate. He looked at a monitor in his hand, adjusted the angle of the camera again and, once satisfied, he turned, watching his men dragging the body of the old man away. He walked out into the desert, kicked sand over the bloody evidence left behind and returned to the village.

.

Mitchell stood, arms folded, at the bottom of the ramp. On each side of the room, SGC security officers pointed their weapons at Amelia as she appeared through the event horizon. Overhead, in the operations room, she could see General Landry watching her through the window.

"Welcome back Doctor Hendrik. What kept you?" Mitchell said as Amelia started to make her way slowly down the ramp. He held out his hand. "You maybe want to reconsider parting with your weapon?"

She looked around the room, weighing up her options. There were none. The iris closed behind her. She reached into her jacket.

"Whoa! Hold it there. Hands away from your body," Mitchell said.

She rolled her eyes but obeyed. "You afraid that I might be able to take you out before these guys can even aim?" she whispered as he came closer.

"No," he replied.

"You should be!" she smiled, raising an eyebrow.

He slipped his hand inside her jacket and placed his hand on the weapon. She could feel his breath on her cheek and the warmth of his hand through her thin black t-shirt as he slipped the Glock from the concealed holster. She turned away, afraid to meet his eye.

"How did you get this onto the base?" Mitchell whispered, stood only a couple of inches from her.

Her pulse throbbed wildly in her neck. "Can I put my arms down now, please?"

"Why can't you just follow orders?"

Amelia said nothing. Mitchell sighed. "General Landry wants to talk to you."

He waited for her to pass and then followed her up the stairs to the briefing room, trying not to notice how well the desert BDU's fit her. When they reached the top Mitchell passed the Glock to Landry and stood back. Landry looked the pistol over and then released the magazine before placing both the weapon and the ammunition onto the table.

"Well, I know this wasn't issued to you by us," Landry said, looking up from the table and directly at Amelia, his eyes narrowed.

"I started carrying one when I returned to the US. It isn't normally loaded. Since giving up competitive shooting I don't really care too much for weapons," Amelia replied. "That said, it's a good job that I did have it today or Doctor Jackson could be dead."

Landry looked at Mitchell who shrugged his reluctant agreement.

"Could've just winged him though," Mitchell suggested. Amelia shot him a withering look.

"And risk him taking a second shot at Doctor Jackson?"

"I can't let you have this back until I've had it checked out. I assume that it is registered to you?" Landry interrupted.

Amelia nodded, relieved that it was the Glock she'd chosen to bring with her. The results of the checks on her other weapons wouldn't have been as straight forward.

"Then I shall overlook this significant breach of regulations. And I'll have the security looked into. You shouldn't have been able to get this through the checkpoints. If I think you're going to need a weapon, it will be issued to you by this base. You will, under no circumstances, bring anything onto base like this again. Do you understand?"

"I do, General Landry," she replied. "And I apologise. There's something you need to see though."

She reached into her pocket and pulled out the collection of metal the elderly man had given to her. She placed them into Mitchell's hand. He turned over the ID tags then looked at her, bewildered.

"They were given to me at the gate. He was an old man and he seemed sincere," she said sadly. "He told me that Marsh was dead and the he had 'given him to the sand'. I'm sorry."

Landry sighed and shook his head. "I'll have to go and see his wife," he said. "Doctor Hendrik, my office." He took the ID tags from Mitchell and returned to his office without another word.

Amelia muttered under her breath and turned to leave.

Mitchell picked up the pistol. "Interesting choice of weapon. Favoured by NID agents."

"Whoever the hell they are," she replied over her shoulder.

Mitchell said nothing.

She stopped and turned. "It's a good weapon."

"You were lucky," Mitchell said.

Walking back to Mitchell, she leaned towards him. Her lips were just an inch from his ear. "Lucky would have been you not acting like a child and telling your boss. Lucky would have been you keeping your mouth shut!"


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

.

Amelia regretted the way she'd spoken to Mitchell the second she left the briefing room. Not because she was wrong or that she was sorry, but because she had over-reacted and Mitchell wasn't stupid; not by a long shot. Now she sat in her laboratory, staring at the sample of blood she had taken from Major North. She needed to run tests, but it didn't take a doctor to see that something wasn't right. The tiny crystals were the first clue, but she had no idea what it was. Whether it was the plague that the clinician had warned her about or if it was something more sinister, she couldn't be sure but she knew one thing. She didn't trust anyone and she sure as hell didn't trust aliens from another planet who were generously offering their help. She had taken fresh samples from the two airmen in the medical unit, but they showed nothing out of the ordinary. A knock on the door startled her.

"Anything new?" Kauffmann asked.

"No, nothing," Amelia replied, removing her hands from the thick gloves and stepping away from the isolation chamber.

Kauffmann dropped into the vacant chair beside the desk in the far corner of the room and looked at the CCTV monitors. "No change there either?" he said, looking at the two patients.

"No, not even in their latest blood samples. Velez is giving up, though. I don't know what else I can do to help her."

They both watched the camera trained on Munroe who was sat at a small table in a chair that was bolted to the floor. He was reading, calmly and apparently unaffected.

"When are we going to discharge him? All his tests are clear. He's not showing any symptoms now," Kauffmann asked.

Amelia shrugged. There _was_ nothing wrong with him but the very fact that he was the only one of the four-man team to return unharmed aside from what had turned out to be largely superficial injuries made her nervous. She knew she had to talk to him and confirm her suspicions. If she was right, he should be dead, and she was going to have a lot of explaining to do.

"I'll do another assessment tonight. If he's still symptom free I don't see any further need to keep him in isolation. I don't really want him leaving the base yet though."

Kauffmann nodded. "Speaking of leaving the base…I'm going out to get some lunch. Can I bring something back for you?"

"Thanks, no," Amelia replied, but she was distracted. Kauffman stood but it scarcely registered with her as he left the room. Quickly, she snatched up her briefcase and headed out, running straight into Mitchell. She pushed past him, not making eye contact. Not stopping when he yelled down the corridor after her and just making it into the elevator before he caught her up. He banged on the call button, but it was too late.

On the surface, Amelia headed for her car. She hadn't been planning to leave the base but she fully expected Mitchell to follow her. She threw her briefcase into the passenger footwell, started the engine and drove towards the security barrier. The guard approached the vehicle and she wound down the window.

"Doctor Hendrik?" he asked. Amelia confirmed her ID and showed her card. "General Landry sent orders to stop you. He needs to speak with you."

She forced a smile to her lips, reversed and turned her car around. "Shit, shit, shit," she muttered to herself as she returned to her parking space then pulled out her burner phone, stabbing in the number. Again, it was answered on the second ring.

"Munroe's one of yours, right? That's why he was on my list." she demanded. There was no response. "He's pretty shit. A four-man team go off-world. Two come back and the only one that's not critically injured, or sick is your guy."

"It wasn't how we wanted it to go. Has he spoken to anyone?"

"No, I'm not stupid. I quarantined him, but questions are being asked now. There is clearly nothing wrong with him. I can't keep him in there much longer."

"Have you questioned him?"

"I plan to but I need to pick my moment. He's monitored twenty-four seven. I spend too much time in there..."

"You're his doctor, Hendrik!" the man exclaimed.

"For god's sake, Adam. I have other patients. I spend more time in his room than with people who are sicker than him and then he dies...I think they might start asking difficult questions. Don't you?"

"Did he bring anything back with him?"

"Nothing," she replied but something about the guy's tone worried her. "Do you think he's gone rogue?"

"Not a chance I'm prepared to take. It would have been better if his injuries were significant enough that his death was expected but the fact is we need to sanitise this now. I'm authorising a code seven."

"You can't be…"

"You have your orders, and Hendrik, one last thing. Close down the Stargate program."

"What?"

"We've invested a lot of time and effort. Holmes was good but Velez and the others...That's just the unexpected cherry on the cake. It's time to shut them down."

"How can I do that? I can't present a feasible link between the gate and what happened to Holmes. Carter isn't stupid. She knows pretty much everything there is to know about that gate. She'll know if I fabricate something."

"She's not a neurologist, Hendrik. I'm sure you'll think of something. Nobody knows what the long-term effects of gate travel are. Research has produced mixed results. It just needs a creative mind. I already know you have that."

Amelia's mouth was dry, and she could hardly speak. "Why?" she whispered.

"We need control of that gate. I have a team in place. Having operatives embedded is taking too long and this business with Munroe threatens to blow the entire project. It needs cleaning up. That's what you're there for. I intend to make the President see that the Stargate would be better in the hands of a new civilian body under his direct control."

"It's been tried before. You know that and she let the side down in the end," Amelia objected.

"We need something a little higher profile now. Something to discredit the military."

"What exactly do you mean?"

"Don't worry yourself about that. I'll arrange what you need. Your instructions will be clear and then others will take over. You just have to do what I pay you for."

"This isn't what I signed up for."

There was silence on the other end for a few seconds, then "How is Colonel Mitchell...and, of course, Major Davis?"

She went cold. Even the limited contact she had had with Davis had put him in the firing line. "Alright. I'll do what I can."

.

* * *

Landry finished signing the reports on his desk before he addressed Amelia. She shifted impatiently from one foot to another, wondering why she was standing. She wasn't military. The worst he could do was remover her from the position and, as much as she knew it would never happen anyway, she would have welcomed it.

When he did eventually look up, he still didn't ask her to sit.

"You went to visit Lieutenant Colonel Holmes' daughter?" he asked.

She knew it wasn't really a question. He already knew the answer. She nodded anyway.

"What did you talk about?"

"Her father. His illness. What she might have known about it. Signs and symptoms that perhaps she may have noticed, dismissed even."

"And did she tell you anything useful?"

"Not really. Just that he seemed to be losing his mind. He was talking about a secret project he was working on. I assumed that he was referring to the Stargate project. Madison just thought he was mad. I told her that I would go and see her father and that I'd keep her informed."

Landry nodded. "She was found dead this morning. Her husband came back from a business trip and found her body in the kitchen."

Amelia suddenly felt sick and she felt the colour drain from her face. "How?" she asked but she already knew.

"They don't know yet. No visible signs of injury but that doesn't mean anything. They're treating the scene as contaminated. Full Hazmat precautions. They suspect poisoning but they haven't been able to pin anything down yet."

"Well…I'm sorry to hear that. She seemed like a lovely woman," Amelia replied, itching to get out of the office. "Has anyone told her father?"

"Not yet." He paused for just a beat. "From what the police could gather from her neighbours, you were the last person to call. They didn't know who you were, of course, but they remembered your car and they remembered you visiting."

"Well, I can assure you that she was alive and well when I left."

Landry nodded slowly and smiled. "We also have witness statements that corroborate that. That said, I don't plan on letting you go on any visits alone to investigate this. I was hoping that Major Davis could chaperone you should you need to question anyone else but there are…rumours…"

"For…We went out for dinner. We get on well. We're friends. I have a lot of friends. Many of whom are male. Is this really going to be a problem for you?" she spat realising, even as she was speaking, that she was being unnecessarily defensive.

Landry simply raised his eyebrows and waited.

"I'm sorry. It's just…well it seems that you can't have a private life around here," she said, taking the seat she was never offered. Landry said nothing. "I was grateful to have Major Davis for company. I'm not military and I don't get the life you people lead. That's all there is to it. I've had a pretty rough time with relationships and I have no intention of getting into another. Major Davis is quite safe." She smiled, and Landry nodded.

"Okay then. Did Madison give you any indication that her life was in danger? Did she seem worried or unusually nervous?"

Amelia shook her head. "Nothing like that. She said that her father told her that if he revealed his secret it could put her in danger, but he didn't tell her anything so…" She could feel her hands trembling and immediately placed them on her knees, trying to control them. This was crazy. She couldn't recall the last time she had been afraid of anything. Fear…and pretty much any other emotion…had been trained out of her but she could almost pinpoint the moment that began to change.

"I've set up an appointment for you at the hospital with Lieutenant Colonel Holmes. You and Major Davis will go there tomorrow and speak with him. See if you can get any sense out of him." He handed her a slip of paper on which was written the time of the appointment and location of the secure medical facility.

Amelia slipped it into her pocket and said, "I don't think that Major Davis should be in the room."

"Why not?"

Amelia took a deep breath. "When I was talking to Madison she was very keen for me to assure her that I wasn't military. I think she sees that as the root of the problem. Holmes may feel the same way. I've no problem with him coming with me but I don't want him in the room."

"I'll consider your request."

Amelia pulled herself to her feet. "Well, if that's all?"

Landry nodded.

"Oh, if you find out what killed Madison, please let me know. As cold as it might seem I need to know if I'm in any danger from whatever killed her."

"Understood."

.

* * *

The group of medics stared into the room through the reinforced glass. Inside, a young man was secured to a chair, fighting against the restraints and sobbing and yelling for his life. The group were unmoved by the emotional display. They were there to do a job and that is all they were focusing on.

Commander Yellan approached the men. "I was told you had news," he said.

"Yes, Commander. I believe that we have perfected it. The tests in the laboratory have provided favourable results. We were about to test it on this specimen but thought you would wish to be present," the eldest of the men said. He was short, and his face was lined, careworn but his voice still possessed the excitement of youth. "With your permission, Commander?"

Commander Yellan nodded. The medic pulled on thick gloves and removed a small glass vial from a metal container sat on the table to his right. He opened a panel in the door of the isolation chamber. The sobs of the young man inside, which could only be seen before, now echoed through the otherwise silent room. Commander Yellan threw the vial into the room and slammed the panel closed, blocking out the sound. The man's eyes were immediately drawn to the shattered glass. The pale gold contents had formed a tiny puddle which was quickly evaporating, turning to a smoky white mist. The man looked through the window at the men, his eyes wide. His mouth moved but they couldn't hear his pleas. His began coughing, struggling to breath. His eyes bulged, and his face grew more and more red as he struggled to draw air into his lungs.

"How long does this take, Kathan?" Commander Yellan asked impatiently.

"Shouldn't be too much longer, sir," the youngest of the medics said. Even as he spoke, the man's head dropped forward, the coughing ceased, and his body was perfectly still.

"You've killed him?" Commander Yellan said, his voice raised and his stare like ice.

"Please, sir. It takes a few moments. I can assure you he is not dead," Kathan replied, his eyes never leaving a countdown on the wall to the side of him. As it hit zero the victim raised his head and his eyes fluttered open. "The room is safe now, Sir."

Kathan pressed his hand against a panel to the left of the door and a green light scanned his palm. The door slid silently open and Kathan invited Commander Yellan to step inside.

"After you," Yellan replied cautiously.

Kathan didn't hesitate. He approached the man in the chair who simply looked at him, no hint of emotion.

"What is your name?" Kathan asked.

"Josar," the man answered. Kathan punched in a code on the panel at the rear of the chair and the restrains retracted. The man did not move.

"Stand," Kathan barked. Josar obeyed.

Kathan handed him a scalpel. "Drive this into your arm."

Again, Josar obeyed without any hesitation or hint of pain.

"Interesting," Commander Yellan said, circling the Josar.

"But it's so much better than this. He is an empty shell. He remembers his name but nothing else about his old life. We can provide him with memories. We can send him out into the galaxy to infiltrate any society. All we have to do is ensure he is implanted with the relevant information. He is capable of remembering anything that is told to him. Sir…he is basically a recording devise who would kill his own family if we told him that is what he wanted to do." Kathan was getting more and more excited as he spoke.

"Has this been tested on our human specimen?" Commander Yellan asked. He didn't miss the concerned glance exchanged by his team of medics.

"The trouble is, Sir, the humans are different. The chemical we have been running through his system should have made him more susceptible to the grafting. We needed him to maintain most of his personality but with the addition of the required instructions. Sadly, brain chemistry seems to be able to separate the genuine from those that we need him to have. There is a solution but then I am not entirely certain how much of his original personality he will retain." Kathan replied.

Yellan stared back at the man in the chair, contemplating his options. Finally, he said, "His friends believe it is a toxin. They said that one of the original visitors became ill on return?"

"That is correct, sir," Surusu replied. "She was hoping a sample of blood would help."

"Can you graft him long enough for his return through the gate. For him to appear 'normal' until they emerge on Earth?"

"I believe that I can create a situation where that may work but we cannot use the airborne version," Surusu said, his brow knitted as he wondered exactly what his commander had in mind. "We can run some further tests, however. We still have the genetic material obtained from the woman."

"Good, do it. I am expecting their return in the next day or so. The one they called North must be ready to return with them. I will need a secure sample of this new liquid."

Surusu shook his head. "That is not safe, sir."

"Then find a way to make it safe. I have an agreement to uphold."

.

* * *

Amelia stood outside Munroe's room and scanned her card. The door slid open and she stepped inside. She was nervous and unarmed except for a capped syringe in the pocket of her lab coat. Munroe was lying back on the bed, his fingers interlaced behind his head. He turned his head a fraction to see who had entered and the turned back to staring at the ceiling.

"Colonel Munroe, how are you feeling?"

"I was feeling just fine until you walked in," he replied. "No disrespect but I know who you are and I'm pretty sure I know what your orders are."

Amelia smiled and said, "I have no idea what you mean, Colonel. The only reason I'm here is to check you over and assess you for discharge. Return to normal duties. That must be a relief, right?"

"I'm not going back to normal duties though, am I?" He jumped to his feet and stood toe to toe with her. He was easily a foot taller than Amelia and looked down at her, his eyes like fire. "Code seven. Mean anything to you?"

Amelia shook her head. "Perhaps you should stay here a little longer."

He grabbed her arm. "They own you, don't they?"

"Colonel…" She gripped the syringe.

"I have kids, Doc. You really going to C-seven me?"

Amelia took a step backwards. "Who are you?"

"You know who I am. And you know who I work for because you work for them too. And you're only here because you've discussed me with the boss. You've been given orders to sanitise because I didn't give him what he wanted. Look at Holmes. He opened his mouth and he was framed for murder. Accused of going insane."

"He killed his wife," Amelia pointed out.

Munroe shook his head and smiled. "If you knew anything about Holmes you'd know that wasn't true. They set him up."

"Do you have any proof of that?"

Munroe chuckled. "What do you think?" It was a fair question. They never left a trail.

"What did you do to Velez and the others?"

He stepped back and sat down on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. "There was some trouble in the village. I shot Marsh in the confusion."

"Deliberately?"

Munroe nodded.

"What about Velez and North?"

"Nothing to do with me. They knew nothing. Marsh had worked it out. I think he'd been sounded out by then and failed but somehow, he worked it out. Worked out that I was working with them." He paused then looked at her again. "We lost days in there. I swear I don't know what happened to her." He took a deep breath. "You turning me in?"

"Are you going to tell me the truth about what happened? If you were working for us, then why the firefight? You were the contact. They were expecting you. What happened, Munroe?"

Munroe stared at his bare feet. "Are you going to kill me?"

Amelia said nothing.

Munroe looked up. "I saw your face when I was brought in, Hendrik. I could see you were relieved I was injured and disappointed that I wasn't injured badly enough. You don't really have the stomach for this but they've got something on you, something real important to you, so you're going to do it anyway."

"What happened, Munroe? What have they got on _you_? You say you have kids. Surely you're not doing this out of choice." Amelia replied.

It was Munroe's turn to stay silent.

"Work with me," Amelia pressed.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

.

Davis stepped out of the car and leaned against the driver's door, waiting. He'd only been away for two days but immediately he saw Amelia he felt something had changed. She was dressed professionally, similar to the day he first met her. The dark grey trouser suit looked expensive and she wore it with a cream silk shirt. Her hair was pulled back from her face and in a neat knot at the back of her neck. She looked…efficient. But there was a sadness in her eyes that hadn't been there when he left her. There was no warm smile or friendly greeting.

"Major Davis," she said as she approached. She gave him a smile, but it was clearly forced and didn't reach her eyes.

"Doctor Hendrik," he replied, moving around the hood of the car and opening the passenger door for her, but not wide enough that she could get into the vehicle. "Everything okay?"

She nodded and looked him over. He was wearing dark jeans and a pale blue shirt. "I'm glad to see you got my instructions. I don't think that seeing a uniform would really help Holmes."

"I was also told you don't want me in the room. So, what did it matter what I was wearing?" he asked.

"I didn't want to take the chance." Amelia climbed into the car and clipped in her seatbelt. Davis took his seat behind the wheel but hesitated before starting the engine. "What?" Amelia asked.

"You're quiet. Not like you, really."

"I know. I'm sorry. They're leaving it to me to tell Holmes that his daughter is dead. I was the last person to see her alive."

"I see." He turned the key in the ignition and pulled out of the parking space.

"Is that it?"

"I guess."

"No words of support or encouragement?"

"Nothing I say is going to make it easier, right?"

They continued for the next mile in silence, Davis focused on driving and trying to ignore all the questions he had, and Amelia staring out of the window. It was Davis who broke the silence though.

"You know Colonel Mitchell, don't you?"

It took Amelia by surprise. For a moment she considered denying it, then nodded.

"More than friends?" He wasn't sure he should be asking; wasn't sure she'd answer.

"No." Her response was resolute. "Frankly, I'm not sure we're even friends. We don't seem to able to be in each other's company without things getting…He hates me, Paul, and he has every right."

Again, they remained silent until Davis had pulled the car into a space in the parking lot at the hospital and they had checked in through security at the hospital reception. It was unlike any of the military hospitals Amelia had worked in. The reception area was carpeted and there were large sofas with overstuffed cushions in intimate arrangements. There were pictures on the walls that the tags said were painted by 'residents'. It looked more like a hotel than a secure medical facility. Except for the smell. Disinfectant fighting with the potpourri that sat on the low side tables. They were told to take a seat, that Holmes' doctor would be along shortly. Davis and Amelia didn't sit side by side. He waited for Amelia to sit first and then took the seat opposite. He didn't want to crowd her. She seemed so distracted, almost afraid. He didn't know the right thing to say, so chose to say nothing. Amelia glanced up at him. He wasn't looking at her, but she wished he was. She wondered if he'd see that what she really needed at that moment was someone to tell her it was all going to be okay. That it wouldn't be long before she could walk away from this whole sorry mess. Perhaps hold her hand or wrap his arms around her. Too far. She needed to stop romanticizing him.

"Doctor Hendrik?" The voice was that of a white-haired man wearing suit pants, a white shirt and a waistcoat. No jacket and no white coat. Only his ID card which hung from a lanyard around his neck gave him away as a member of staff. A psychiatrist in fact. Amelia bristled as she realised he was talking to Major Davis. Misogamist attitude from a dinosaur, Amelia thought. She stood.

"I'm Frank Winterborne."

" _I'm_ Doctor Hendrik," she said, a sliver of ice in her tone.

The psychiatrist looked at her in surprise. "Forgive me Doctor Hendrik. I'll be honest. I was expecting someone older. I've read some of your papers and they seemed to be written by an older head."

"Well, I guess in that case I should be flattered," she smiled, holding out her hand. "Amelia Hendrik. This is Major Paul Davis, a colleague. I'm between cars at the moment and Paul was good enough to drive me over."

The two men greeted each other. "So, I understand that you want to talk to Holmes?"

"I do, yes. I'm hoping that he might be able to tell me something that we don't already know. Something that might explain his actions."

"I'm not sure you'll find anything. I understand that the Airforce would like this to be a medical condition and, in some respects, it is, but he murdered his wife in cold blood. I'm not sure there's enough there for an insanity plea if that's what you're hoping for."

"I'm not a psychiatrist or a lawyer. I'm not here to establish an insanity plea. I'm here to make sure that, if there is an underlying medical condition, it's acknowledged, and we do everything in our power to make sure we prevent it happening to anyone else."

Winterborne seemed unimpressed. "Follow me."

Amelia grabbed her briefcase from the sofa and hurried after Winterborne who was moving at some pace. Davis watched until they were out of sight then dropped back on to the sofa, pulled out his cell phone and pressed redial.

"He's been particularly agitated. We have him on Clozapine at the moment. It seems to be controlling the symptoms." Winterborne said as they stood outside of Holmes' room. She could see him through the tiny reinforced glass window of his door, lying on the bed in what looked like scrubs. "We upped his dose this morning in view of the news you were bringing."

Amelia stared at Winterborne for a moment, incredulous. "You already know but you chose not to tell him?"

Winterborne didn't answer but had the good grace to look embarrassed, Amelia thought. She was surprised when he opened the door. It wasn't locked. "As long as he'd medicated, he's no issue," Winterborne said as if he'd read her mind.

She stepped into the room, thanked Winterborne and closed the door securely behind her. Holmes pulled himself upright, the effort seeming to wear him out. She wondered just how much Clozapine they were pumping into him and if she was going to get anything useful.

"Colonel Holmes…"

"I know why you're here," he said as Amelia sat on the metal chair that was secured to the floor. "My daughter called me just after you left her. She told me I should expect you. That you want to help me. She said you weren't with the Airforce, but we know different, don't we, Major?"

"I haven't been in the forces for a few years, Colonel."

Holmes chuckled and shook his head. "Sure. That's what you tell everyone, but I think General Sizemore sees it differently, don't you, Major?"

"I don't work for General Sizemore," Amelia objected, a hint of impatience in her tone.

"Semantics. You work for the Trust. General Sizemore works for the Trust, so you work for him because he outranks you."

Amelia smiled. "General Sizemore is just the guy who passes on my orders. Right now, those orders are to make it clear to you that your co-operation with me and your silence with everyone else is required."

"Look at me, Major. Things can't get any worse for me. They think I've lost my mind. Nobody believes anything I'm saying. I didn't kill Maggie. They did. They wanted to try to stop me running my mouth."

Amelia opened her briefcase and pulled out the notebook Madison had given to her. "This makes for interesting reading."

"Where did you get that?" he asked, panicked.

"Your daughter gave it to me. She thought it might help me understand your mental state. It makes for interesting reading if you already know the truth, but it does look like the ramblings of a mad man to anyone else."

"Damn it. I told her to keep out of this. I told her it would just bring trouble to her door."

"I'm afraid it brought rather more than that. Madison died." She had said it, and she felt like crap. Holmes' eyes widened, and he shook his head, mumbling over and over. Denying it could be possible, furious because he knew it was.

"You?" he muttered.

"No!" Amelia replied emphatically. "I was the last person to see her alive. I was sent to see how much she knew and to...clean up if she was going to be trouble but…it wasn't necessary. She thought you'd gone crazy. I didn't kill her."

"Someone thought it was 'necessary'. Just like Maggie." He stood, hesitating for a moment while he got his balance and then walked to the far side of the room, standing on tiptoe to look out of the thin window and up to the sky. "I'm never getting out of here, am I?"

"If you do, you'll be going to prison. I can make a case that travel through the gate was the cause of your mental breakdown, but it won't be enough to get you off the charge completely. They'll want you confined. You're better off in here. Safer. Work with me. You know what we need. If we get it, there might be a way for you to start again...somewhere else. Another planet, perhaps?"

"I'm not an idiot, Major Hendrik. You'd promise just about anything right now."

"You have to understand that there are bigger things in play here. This isn't just about you…or me. My father died because of that program. They could have helped him. Cured him, but they didn't want to show their hand, so they let him die. The things that have been discovered could help mankind, but they are keeping them hidden. That has to change. We have to help that process. We owe it to the people of this planet to protect them."

Holmes smiled, then started to laugh. "They really got to you, didn't they? You're a clever woman, or so I hear. You must see that this has nothing to do with helping humanity. I'm not even sure that humanity has anything to do with it anymore. How many people have you killed, _doctor_? How many innocent people have died in pursuit of this wonderful new world that you believe in so much that you'll cover for them?"

Amelia placed the notebook back into the briefcase and closed the lid. "I'm not here to offer you options. You know that."

"You don't even understand who you're working for, do you?"

"Are you refusing to help us, Colonel?"

"You're damn right I am, and if you got any sense you'd get out while you can."

"Then I'm sorry. What happened to your daughter is regrettable. I liked her, although I'm sure that there will be a reasonable explanation for her death. Natural causes. An undiagnosed heart condition. Your grief is likely to drive you further over the edge until there is nothing left of the Colonel Holmes we all knew."

"Are you threatening me?"

Amelia stood. "I'm telling you what you already know, Colonel." And she hated it.

"You're in for one hell of a shock, lady."

She paused. "What do you mean?"

He said nothing. She waited. He lay back on the bed, folded his arms across his stomach and closed his eyes, a slight smile on his lips.

"I'm sorry, Colonel Holmes, truly," she said quietly and left.

Outside the room, a nurse waited for her. "Doctor Hendrik?"

"Yes?"

"Doctor Hines sends his regards." Her voice was level and loaded. Amelia dipped her hand into her pocket, curled her fingers around the small glass bottle that was concealed and withdrew it. She hesitated for just a moment before handing it to the nurse.

"Tell him I said 'hi'," Amelia replied and hurried down the corridor.

.

* * *

Vala sat on the edge of Jackson's desk, swinging her legs and gazing around the room. Jackson was trying hard to ignore her, but it wasn't easy. She was a difficult person to ignore. Finally, removing his glasses, he rubbed his forehead and sighed.

"What do you want?" he asked impatiently.

"Come with us," she smiled.

"I already told you, I have work to do."

"Rubbish! Everyone else is going. It's just a couple of drinks. You'll be home before the clock strikes midnight, Cinderella," Vala replied.

"This isn't going to translate itself, Vala," he said, waving a photograph of one of the obelisks from a recent off-world mission.

Vala snatched it from his hand and pretended to study it. He watched wearily for a moment, rubbing his fingers across his forehead.

"If I agree to come for one beer…and I mean one…will you leave me alone?"

"Absolutely," Vala grinned, handing back the photograph and jumping off the desk. "Oh, and I've asked Amelia."

"Wait!" Jackson called as she headed for the door. "That's not a good idea."

"Do you have any idea what it feels like to be the outsider around here, Daniel?" she said, turning back to him and giving him the big puppy-dog eyes, she knew worked so well.

"Actually, yes," he replied.

She hesitated for a beat and then said, "It's not the same. Besides, how could I leave her out? That would be bad manners."

"Like that's ever bothered you before," Daniel muttered.

"I like her. There's something about her that reminds me of myself."

"I hope not!" Daniel replied. "Anyway, that's not what I meant. When you said everybody, I assume that includes Mitchell?"

"Naturally," Vala replied with a glint in her eye.

"But not Davis?"

Vala cleared her throat and glanced around the office before giving him the answer he was expecting. "I haven't seen Major Davis to ask him. Of course, I would if…"

"That's okay. I'll ask him." Daniel was watching her carefully now.

She pressed her lips together and cast her eyes to the floor. "It might be better if you didn't."

"I thought so. Does Doctor Hendrik know that Mitchell will be there?"

Vala tried her best innocent look, her eyes wide and her eyebrows raised slightly. "I really don't recall," she said.

"No!" Daniel said firmly

"What?"

"Don't interfere, Vala."

"I'm not. I'm inviting a friend for a drink."

"I'm serious. They need to work it out for themselves. This isn't going to help."

"Men are so stupid!" Vala mumbled. "Don't you see? They have a history. A personal one and despite what you say…because you're a man and can't see beyond the end of that very cute nose…he doesn't hate her. He's still crazy about her and he doesn't know how to handle it. The spark is still there…soooo…"

"So, you're going to fan it?" Jackson said sardonically. "That's dangerous, Vala. What about Davis?"

"What about him?"

"He's been…they've been…You know exactly what I mean. Just leave it alone."

"We shall see," she replied, touching the end of his nose with her finger and strolling nonchalantly from the room.

"Vala!" Jackson's gaze followed her for a moment, then he shook his head and returned to his translation, but he couldn't concentrate. He wondered if he should warn Mitchell or Hendrik...maybe both.

.

* * *

Davis pulled the car into a parking lot at the rear of a small diner on the outskirts of town and turned off the engine. It was gone lunch time and he was hungry. Amelia had been anything but communicative since they left the hospital, the journey having passed in complete silence.

"I'll buy," he smiled.

Amelia seemed to be jarred out of a trance, looking out of the window and apparently realising for the first time that they had stopped.

"I'm not hungry," she replied.

"I am so we're going in. You can sit and watch me eat," he replied and climbed out of the car. Amelia followed suit albeit reluctantly. They chose a booth at the far end of the diner. Quiet and private although, despite the hour, the place wasn't particularly busy. Davis hoped that didn't speak for the food. He ordered a club sandwich with fries and coffee. Amelia refused food but joined him in the coffee.

"So, what happened?"

She shook her head. "Nothing."

"You've not said a word since we left."

"I'm sorry. I just…this is harder than I expected. Seeing that poor man in there…" She meant every word. She knew it was a set up and she knew there was nothing she could do about it, not yet anyway. She'd meant what she'd said to Holmes about starting again on another planet and hoped that she'd be able to talk Adam into it.

"Did he do it?" Davis asked.

Amelia raised her eyes and looked at him for a moment, a frown crinkling her forehead. "That isn't for me to determine," she said at last. "And I can't discuss his medical condition with you. You know that."

"You can tell me if you think that the gate has something to do with it though."

She shook her head. "I don't have enough information yet. He didn't really want to talk to me." She paused for a moment while the waitress placed their coffee on the table.

"Food'll be just a few minutes, honey," she smiled at Davis and hurried away again.

Amelia watched her until she was well out of earshot. "He knew me. He knew that I was Air force. He even knew my final rank. He shut down."

"Do you remember working with him?"

Amelia shrugged. "I came across a lot of people. I don't remember them all. I certainly don't remember him." She spotted the waitress returning with the club sandwich and fries.

"Are you sure you don't want anything, honey?" she asked Amelia.

"Thanks, no."

The waitress shrugged and walked off, bustling around the new arrivals; a couple of bikers just in for coffee. The waitress seemed unimpressed, guessing she wasn't getting much of a tip.

Amelia watched Davis tuck into the sandwich with the gusto of a man who hadn't eaten for days. She stared at the fries on the side of his plate and at the blob of mayo he'd squeezed out of the plastic bottle. She hadn't been hungry until the food had arrived, and the odour of fresh, crisp fries had reached her. He put down the remaining quarter of his sandwich and picked up a fry, wriggling it in the mayo before deliberately, slowly raising it to his lips and eating it.

"Mmm, these are good," he said, with a mischievous grin.

"Yeah, I can hear your hardening arteries agreeing with you."

He dipped another in the mayo and raised it, the held it out for her. She met his gaze and wished they could have met under different circumstances. Even when she was being quiet and pissy he still knew how to make her smile. More importantly, he still tried. She suddenly lunged forward and bit the end of the fry.

"Ketchup next time,"

"Next time?" he replied, his eyebrows raised. "You think I'm going to share?"

She smiled at him and nodded. "I know you're going to share!" Her hand moved with lightning speed as she snatched another. He grabbed her wrist, leaning forward and eating it out of her fingers.

"Well, if you're happy to see me fade away from hunger…" she replied with feigned dismay.

"Not much danger of that. We've eaten together a few times, remember. I've seen how much..."

"Don't even dare finish that sentence," she laughed.

He shoved the plate towards her. "Go ahead."

"No, I was messing with you. Finish your lunch."

"I'm serious. You need to eat. I know you don't eat on the base so if I take you back there you won't have anything at all."

She took a mouthful of the sandwich but said nothing. For a few minutes she'd forgotten why she was here and was just enjoying Davis' company. "We should get back. I have things I need to do."

"I think what you need right now is to take some time out."

"What do you mean?" she bit, defensively.

"You're not the same person I left here a few days ago, Amelia. I get that I hardly know you and it's probably none of my business but..." he stopped and shrugged, not really knowing how to finish the sentence. "You're distant. Preoccupied maybe," he said at last. "Something's going on. Something's changed."

She said nothing. Just stared down at the sandwich, her appetite suddenly deserting her.

"Amelia," he said. His tone was more serious than she had ever heard him. She raised her eyes to meet his gaze. His expression was as serious as his voice and she wondered, just for a moment...

"Amelia, if you don't tell me, I can't help you."

She smiled and shook her head. "It's nothing," she said. She wasn't going to put him in danger; couldn't. Nobody could help her now.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

.

Mitchell sat at the bar, peeling the damp label off the bottle. The first beer had gone down quickly, and he'd felt the tension leave his body for the first time in days; the first time, at least, since Amelia Hendrik had unexpectedly burst into his life again. The memory of their first encounter jolted in his mind.

 _He had heard the footfall, the squeak of rubber soles on the polished hospital floor. Not the same as the nurses though. More like boots. The waft of perfume had crept into the room and he didn't recognise it. This was someone new._

 _"Who are you?" he had asked without ever turning his gaze from his hospital room window. He had been able to see the distorted reflection of the visitor in the glass. He could see she wasn't a nurse and she wasn't wearing a white coat._

 _"Doctor Hendrik. Amelia Hendrik. I thought I should pop in and introduce myself. I'm the neurologist assigned to you, Major Mitchell."_

 _"What happened to the other one?" he had grumbled as he finally turned to look at her._

 _"I think you frightened him off," she replied._

 _"I don't like shrinks," he grumbled._

 _"Well, firstly I'm sure they'd all be very sorry to hear that but, as I'm not one, I don't care what you think of them. I also don't believe you need a psychiatrist...just yet. Secondly, I'm made of tough stuff so if you think that being irritating is going to get rid of me, you're very much mistaken. I am willing to make a concession though, if it makes you feel better. You clearly have some sort of white coat, doctor hating thing going on so you can call me Amelia," she had replied with a smile that had made him glad they'd removed his cardiac monitor the day before._

 _"People call you Millie?" he has asked._

 _"No, they don't."_

 _"I like it," he had responded._

 _"Well, good for you but if you call me Millie then not being able to walk would become the least of your concerns," she had replied._

 _"Threats? Seems a little 'undoctor-like'?" He was enjoying the banter. He hadn't realised how frustrated he had become with everyone being nice to him all the time. "You skip 'bedside manner 101'?_

 _"My job is to find out what's wrong and help you get better. Being nice to you isn't in my job description, which is a good thing really, because I'm not actually terribly good at it and you're certainly not making it any easier."_

 _"You're British?"_

 _"Not entirely."_

 _"Are you Air force?"_

 _"I'm a doctor. I think that's the only important thing for you right now."_

 _"Hendrik?" He had read her name badge. "That's not a very English spelling."_

 _"I didn't have a very English father." He hadn't answered. She had perched on the edge of his bed. "They tell me you should have died."_

 _"And yet here I am," he replied, petulantly._

 _She had opened the file she carried and looked through the papers. "Your psychologist reported that you are a very determined man if rather belligerent. The nurses tell me that you're suffering from headaches and some coordination issues, muscle weakness?"_

 _"It's nothing."_

 _"The surgeons have done a good job with you, Major. Your injuries were potentially life-altering. You've done well so far. With the right help, there's no reason you shouldn't make a full recovery."_

 _"Banks injuries were life-ending."_

 _"And of course, sitting here and letting your life ebb away will be a fitting tribute to your colleague, right? You disappoint me. I thought you were going to be easier to deal with. You've fought so hard to get back on your feet, literally. They don't give the Congressional Medal of Honor to just anyone. I expected you to be stronger."_

 _He had refused to talk any further, turning back to the window. He had felt her weight lift from the bed. She had touched his arm and it had felt like an electric shock jarring through a body he had feared wouldn't recover from the accident. The next sound had been the soles of her boots on the floor again._

 _"So I guess you'll be coming back?"_

 _She had stopped in the doorway and turned back to him. "As I said, you're my patient now so sadly I don't really have much choice." She waited for a moment. "Well, I guess we'll try again tomorrow. Perhaps you'll be feeling a little more co-operative."_

 _"What perfume are you wearing?" he called to her, facing her again._

 _"Why?"_

 _"I like it."_

 _"Are you flirting with me, Major?"_

 _He had opened his mouth to speak but she had started laughing._

 _"Calm down, Major. I was joking. I hoped it might force you to smile but apparently, I was wrong. I really need to talk to your psychologist. Oh, and it's Chanel 19."_

 _"Expensive tastes!" he exclaimed._

 _"I'm worth it." She'd turned and was a couple of steps beyond the door when she'd called out. "My birthday is in February…you know…in case you're interested."_

 _Finally, he had laughed._

.

"Can I get another?" Mitchell said, snapping out of it and waving the empty beer bottle at the barman who quickly replaced it.

"Getting a head start?" Daniel said, perching on the stool beside Mitchell and trying to catch the barman's attention.

"Lite," Mitchell defended. "Didn't expect to see you."

"I wasn't going to come but I didn't catch you back at the base and you needed to know. Vala invited…" Jackson began but stopped as he watched Mitchell's muscles tighten. He didn't need to turn around.

"Doctor Hendrik," Mitchell said both in completion of Daniel's sentence and in greeting to the newly arrived Amelia.

"Colonel Mitchell," she replied, with a smile that seemed more nervous and surprised than friendly. It suddenly struck Mitchell that they could both have been set up.

"Beer and a Jack Daniels on the rocks," Mitchell said to the barman.

"I thought that Vala and Sam would be with you?" Jackson said, trying to break the uncomfortable silence.

"I called home first. I'm sure they'll be along shortly," Amelia said, desperately hoping that they would.

The next five minutes seemed an eternity, even more so when Jackson decided he needed to use the men's room. Amelia was almost certain that it was just to remove himself from the situation. There was only so much small talk one man could muster after all.

"You remembered what I drink," Amelia said, forcing a smile through her nerves. It was the first thing that came into her mind. An attempt to cut through the suffocating silence between them.

"Yep," he replied curtly.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay? Vala told me it was a bit of a girl's night out. If she'd had told me you'd be here…" She stopped.

"What?" he asked.

"Well, I wouldn't have come. I know things aren't great between us and I completely understand that after...everything. I had no intention of making you feel uncomfortable or muscling in on your night out with your friends. I'll finish my drink and go."

"No, you won't," Mitchell replied.

She opened her mouth to object.

"I need you to stay," he said quietly.

She stared at him, saw something in his expression, something she had seen before and it unsettled her. "Why?" she replied.

"Hey!" Vala called out as she walked into the bar with Carter close on her heels. Jackson joined them and immediately wished he hadn't. "You get the drinks, Daniel. We'll go and get a booth." She took Amelia by the arm and dragged her away.

"Sorry," Jackson said to Mitchell once they were alone. "I'd hoped to give you some warning."

Mitchell just shrugged and took another pull on his beer.

"Look, tell me to mind my own business…"

"Mind your own business," Mitchell said quickly, cutting Jackson off.

"Oookay, I'll take these," he said, grabbing a couple of the beers from the bar and making his way to the booth. Mitchell gave a heavy sigh, picked up the remaining bottles and joined him.

.

* * *

Jackson had stayed longer than he'd intended. Even so, by ten thirty he announced he was leaving and offered his companions a ride back to base. Vala immediately accepted and gave Carter a little wink, determined to leave Mitchell and Amelia alone.

"Doctor Hendrik?" Jackson asked.

"I wish you'd call me Amelia," she chuckled. "Thanks, but I'm going to stay at the cabin tonight. I'll get Ben to call a cab for me."

"Ben?" Carter said, her eyebrows raised and a mischievous smile on her lips.

"The Barman. Nice guy," Amelia replied as innocently as she could manage.

"Well, if you're sure. How about you, Cam?" Jackson continued.

"I'm going to have another before I leave."

"I'll see you tomorrow then," he said.

Amelia watched with some amusement as Vala smacked Daniel playfully on the arm and whispered something to him. His brow was knitted as he replied to her in angry terms. Then her gaze fell on a man stood at the bar. He was tall, thin and dressed in leather pants and a leather jacket covered in badges. His hair was long, and the lower half of his face was covered in a full, heavy beard. He was wearing sunglasses despite being indoors and despite the hour. She was almost certain he was the same guy that had been in the diner earlier in the day. They were always watching her. She was walking a dangerous line.

"Well, enjoy your beer," she said to Mitchell as she picked up her jacket from the seat beside her. Mitchell reached out and grabbed Amelia's arm. Her heart pounded, and her hands began to tremble.

"One for the road?"

"I really shouldn't…I have an early start and…" She stumbled over her words.

"Sit," he replied, ordering two more drinks from the waitress who had come to clear the table.

Amelia sighed, dropped her coat again and sat, waiting for him to speak.

He stared into his empty bottle for a few minutes. "Why do you carry a gun?" he asked without looking up.

"It makes me feel safe," she replied. "We live in dangerous times." She smiled at the waitress who placed down the fresh drinks. She noted that Mitchell was still drinking Lite beer. He'd always liked to keep a clear head. It also meant that she knew he wasn't drunk when he suggested that her ex-husband, Joe, had been a member of a rogue team of NID personnel.

She spluttered slightly and coughed before being able to regain her composure enough to adopt a puzzled expression. "I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting to be talking about Joe. What's the NID?"

"National Intelligence Department." Mitchell watched her face closely and she knew what he was looking for, but she was too well trained to give anything away.

"Government? It rings a bell but…that must have been after we split up because when I was with him he was a forensic IT consultant."

"Few years ago, there were a number of rogue agents within the ranks of the NID. They were running an off-world operation stealing technology from other planets and reverse engineering them to develop their own. We managed to shut down most of their operations, but we didn't get 'em all. The NID's been clean for the last four years but I think that Joe was mixed up in something…and he was killed for it."

"Mitchell, you're not making sense."

"How long have you worked with the IOA?"

"What the hell?"

"You worked for Russel Chapman."

"You've been digging around Colonel, and I don't like it. My life has nothing to do with you."

"Just answer the damn question," he growled back at her.

"I don't. I mean...occasionally I work freelance for them, well directly for Russel Chapman really. Reading reports, going over data, that sort of thing."

"So, you had access to…what?"

"Anything that he wanted me to know. Pretty low level though. I'd heard a rumour about this project, but I didn't know anything for certain."

"Did he ever mention something called the Trust?"

She hesitated, pretending to wrack her brains, feeling sick. He knew more than she had imagined, and it was dangerous. "I don't believe so. Is it some sort of charity?" Amelia asked, ashamed with the ease at which the lies were falling from her lips. She wanted to grab him and tell him everything, but she knew that there were only two options left open to her. Try to throw him off the trail…or shut him up for good. Code seven. No evidence. No body. She shuddered at the thought.

"Recognise him?" Mitchell pulled out the same photograph of Ba'al she had seen in the mission reports that she'd read. She recalled the slip she'd made when she had been sat with Major Davis. She thought she'd covered it but now she wondered if it had aroused his suspicions anyway…and he'd shared his observations with Mitchell. Maybe that was why Davis was sticking close to her, befriending her. The idea pissed her off for two reasons. First, it made her realise how fond of him she had become and how betrayed she felt but mostly because it made her feel a fool. That she could have fallen for such an obvious ploy. She quickly got her rising temper under control.

"Yes," she replied, tersely. Mitchell's eyes widened slightly. It wasn't the answer he'd been expecting. "That's the guy in the mission logs. Some odd sounding alien. I'm not sure this is really the place to be discussing this though, is it? Why are you questioning me like this?"

"Joe's death wasn't an accident."

"Do we have to talk about Joe?" she snapped, feeling the tension in her muscles as her frustration grew and she edged towards something that she could hardly contemplate.

"He was killed."

"His motorcycle went off the road. He wasn't wearing a helmet," Amelia assured him. "The coroner ruled accidental death. It was some sort of mechanical failure." She was glad the bar was dimly lit. That way she could be certain that her sudden pallor would be unnoticed. The Trust had always been so careful about covering their tracks and she wondered why it had been so easy for Mitchell to obtain the information about Joe's death. She remembered the day she had been told of it. It had been their security and they had been very clear how the evidence could be used. She wondered if this sudden freedom of information wasn't designed to remind her who was in charge.

"It was intentional. The bike was tampered with," Mitchell said, flatly.

"Look, he's dead and I didn't care for him all that much when he was alive."

"It doesn't bother you?"

"I don't mind admitting that I didn't shed any tears over it, but it _was_ an accident. It was also three years ago, and I've moved on."

"Davis?"

"That is my personal life and you are no longer part of it. You have no right to ask me."

"I've got every right," he bit back.

She said nothing.

"What's going on with you two? Is it serious?"

She ignored him, grabbed her coat and slipped from the booth, heading over to the bar. The biker watched her as she approached then turned back to his beer. She stood deliberately beside him.

"I know who you are and what you're doing. Tell Adam he needs to be a little less obvious," she spat.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. I don't believe we've met," he replied.

Amelia chuckled to herself and shook her head.

Mitchell watched her for a minute before draining his bottle and pulling himself to his reached the bar in time to hear her ask the barman to order a cab for her. She glanced up as he approached and rolled her eyes.

"I'll be outside, Ben. Thanks."

"I'm sorry," Mitchell said, still in pursuit.

"Just…go home, Mitchell."

"I shouldn't have asked. You're right. It is none of my business but…" He sighed. It had been hard enough admitting his jealousy to himself. He was damn sure he wasn't ready to share it. "I'm just gonna make sure you get home safe."

"I don't need you or your macho, overprotective bravado. I can look after myself if you remember. Just leave me alone."

"Millie…"

"And don't call me that."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

.

Mitchell had refused to take no for an answer and now sat beside her on the faux leather seats in the back of the cab. The driver had even asked if 'this guy' was giving her trouble and had offered to call the police. She hadn't wanted rid of Mitchell that badly and had eventually relented. The journey, although short, had been conducted in an uncomfortable silence.

Amelia called out to the cab driver to stop at the bottom of the dirt track that led to the cabin. She had noticed the external light beside the door of the cabin glowing dimly in the distance, but she knew she hadn't left it on. If there was someone inside, she wasn't going to give away her arrival by turning up outside in a cab.

"I'll walk the rest of the way," she said, before quickly getting out and slamming the door.

"You sure you're gonna be okay, lady?" the driver asked as she handed over a twenty-dollar bill through his window.

"I'll be fine, thanks," Amelia said, giving him her most reassuring smile. The driver shrugged and looked in the rear-view mirror at Mitchell.

"Where to, pal?"

"Just…wait here a minute, okay?" Mitchell replied as he jumped out the other side and followed her a little way.

"I'll be fine, Mitchell," she said, walking more quickly. Mitchell turned back to the cab.

"You can go," he said. The driver didn't need telling twice and was gone in a haze of dirt and dust. There was no moon that night and the road was dark without the headlights from the cab. He couldn't seem Amelia on the track any more. He jogged up the road and glimpsed her at the door, a Browning HP in her hand. He wondered, fleetingly, just how many weapons she had at her disposal before pushing it from his mind. He'd seen the look in her eyes as she'd shot the guy on P four X nine eight two. Cold, emotionless and it disturbed him. She turned and looked at him, her finger to her lips. He wished he had his Zat on him.

The door was ajar and even without lights, she could sense the presence of another person. As she moved further inside, she caught the silhouette of a man, judging by the height and build, moving by the fireplace. With her right hand, she pointed the gun at what she hoped was the figures head, as she scrambled with her left hand for the switch on the lamp.

"Put it away, Hendrik," the voice said as the lamp illuminating the room.

"Adam?" she exclaimed. She slid the gun back into the holster in her waistband and slipped off her jacket, throwing it over the back of a chair. "What the hell are you doing, sitting in the dark?"

He didn't answer, and his attention seemed to have been taken with something…or someone…over her shoulder. She glanced behind her to Mitchell.

"Colonel Cameron Mitchell. We work together. Colonel Mitchell, this is Adam Hines," Amelia introduced.

"We've met," Mitchell said, frostily.

"Indeed, we did. During your recovery from the…now what was it…a crash during a test flight?"

"Yep," Mitchell replied, his hostility undisguised.

"Amelia, Beth sends her regards and wanted you to have this," Adam said, handing a brightly coloured tin to her, deliberately catching her fingers with his own as she took it from him.

Mitchell watch him. Adam's his eyes never left Amelia's face, but she didn't seem to notice the hungry look in Adam's eyes.

"Please thank her for me and tell her that she can come up here for a holiday and we can catch up. I feel dreadful that it's been so long…"

"I've sent her to her mother's place for a while," Adam replied. "We should have dinner, if you're ever at a loose end. It would be good to catch up. It's been a long time."

Mitchell was starting to feel more and more uncomfortable. He grabbed a beer from the refrigerator, opened the sliding doors and stepped out onto the decking and into the cool breeze.

"Well, as you're here, can I get you something to drink?" Amelia asked. She opened the refrigerator and dug to the back of the ice-box.

"I won't disturb you," Adam replied, glancing towards Cameron.

She palmed a small plastic tube and closed the refrigerator door again. "Well, if you're sure. Please tell Beth I'll email her soon and I hope to get over to see you both. I've just been so busy recently," Amelia smiled and walked with him to the door.

"Oh, there's a parcel on the table for you. You know what it is," he whispered. Amelia nodded. They stepped outside, and he led her around the side of the house where his car was parked, concealed from view.

"What is he doing here?" Adam asked, his tone now far from friendly.

"You sent me in there. What was I supposed to do? I tried to pretend I didn't know him but for some reason he wasn't fooled!" she snipped.

"Bringing him here wasn't the smartest move, Hendrik. I agreed to let you use this place because it assured privacy."

He held out his hand and she placed the frozen plastic vial into his palm. He curled his fingers around it.

"Thank you. The Zertans are expecting you to return. They will have another little present for you. And we're still waiting for your report. Sizemore is ready to close down the program on your say so."

"How does he propose to use it if I _prove_ that it's dangerous. Surely they'll just remove it? Seal it over?"

"Not your concern," Adam replied. "Oh, and Mitchell's been digging."

"He doesn't know anything and I've given him no reason to doubt my story," Amelia said.

"He knows things, Hendrik. We've allowed him to get at the truth and you know that because we know what he told you.

"So, the biker _was_ one of yours? Not very subtle," she replied, looking beyond him and out into the forest.

"So was the waitress," Adam smiled. "Is there something going on between you and Mitchell that I should know about?"

"No, Adam, there isn't," she asked.

"You were warned what would happen."

She shook her head. "Don't you ever wish...just wish that you could have a nice quiet life?"

His voice was softer, kinder when he answered. "There are things out there – technology, medicine - that could have saved your father. If we stop then his death will have been for nothing…and I know you don't want that. The military are keeping these things for themselves. They made sure Carter's father was okay but not yours. Hardly seems fair, does it? We'll make sure everyone has access to the best the universe has to offer. We have a duty."

The mention of her father tugged at her heart. "I understand," she replied. "It's just...I don't know."

"You're not changing your mind, are you? You wouldn't back out?" He placed his palm against her cheek.

She shook her head. "I just sometimes wonder what a normal life would have felt like." She smiled weakly. "A life that didn't give me a free pass straight to hell."

His hand shifted to her jaw, holding it tightly. Amelia's body tensed. "What we do…what you do, is more important than a thousand Cameron Mitchell's." Adam replied, with a viciousness to his voice that frightened her but she said nothing.

He released her and stepped away. "If our intelligence is correct then this little deal with the Zertans could save millions of people and save the US government billions of dollars."

"What intelligence? The only people that have been there are either dead or...Munroe? But he was clean when he came in. There was nothing on him. I checked."

Adam simply smiled and climbed into his car. "Oh, and Hendrik, I know what you're planning. I saw the papers. Don't even think about it or your boyfriend there could find himself in a very uncomfortable position!"

She waited until the car turned the corner in the track and returned to the house, straight for the bathroom to remove the tinted moisturiser she wore. Her only concession to make-up that evening.

.

Mitchell had heard the car tyres crunch along the rough dirt track away from the house and slipped back inside. He hadn't noticed when they'd arrived in the heat of the situation, but the place looked like it had been ransacked. He could see directly through to the bedroom where all the drawers were open, and clothes were strewn about the room. In the lounge, the scene wasn't much better. On the desk the laptop was open, a picture of a silver tabby cat on the lock screen. Papers littered every available surface. The floor was covered in boxes and he couldn't tell if they were in the process of being packed or unpacked.

Beside the desk, the printer sat with papers it had churned out, still in place. His stomach lurched. He recognised the top piece. He tried to read it but he couldn't see it clearly so he quietly slid it out and scanned the details.

"Damn it," he cursed under his breath. "Not now, Millie."

Amelia had seen him from the bathroom door and watched him as he read. Her irritation at his intrusion softened slightly by his evident distress at the news it contained.

"Is there something in particular that you're looking for or are you just having a general rummage through my personal papers?" she snapped.

Mitchell spun around, the document still in his hand. "It looked like a home invasion."

"No excuse to go through my things."

"Flight details?" His tone was so accusing that it took her by surprise.

She nodded.

"You're leaving?" he asked.

"I will be," she replied as she closed the door.

"I thought…General Landry said that…"

"He told me that Carolyn wasn't planning to come back. He suggested that I apply for a permanent position. I was more than a little surprised to be honest. I thought he saw me as rather a loose cannon."

"You're good at your job, though. He wants the best."

"I respectfully declined."

"Why?" Mitchell frowned.

"This was just an assignment. It was supposed to be short term and that suited me. I'm sure that Kaufmann can step up and make CMO. I'm going back to my house in Washington to collect the rest of my things then…I'll..." she said, her sentence tailing off.

"To England?" He thrust the flight itinerary towards her.

"To begin with."

"To your mother?"

He saw her expression cloud. "No."

"Then where?"

"It's better if you don't know."

"Enigmatic."

She didn't answer.

"Tell Landry you've changed your mind," he demanded.

"No."

"Why?"

"I just…I can't. Now leave it," she snapped.

"I just don't understand you, Millie.

"I asked you not to call me that!"

"You used to like it," he said.

"Yeah, well I used to be a size six too. Times have changed."

"I remember when we used to talk about…"

"The ranch, the cattle, three kids, two dogs. I remember that too, but it was just a stupid game, like a couple of love-sick kids," she barked. It was getting harder and harder to lie to him, though. She would have been more than happy with the ranch and the kids if she could have had them with him but there was no going back. "We haven't seen each other for years, Cam."

"Three years and two months," Mitchell muttered.

She could hardly believe he could be so precise, but she chose to ignore him.

"People change," she said turning away from him. She stared into the bedroom at the suitcases and the clothes that hadn't quite made it in when she had lost her temper and thrown them around the room.

"Not that much," he replied.

"I can't…do this. There are things that...God, I wish I could explain to you," she mumbled. "England is my chance to escape...to move on."

"Seems to me that you've 'moved on' just fine," he replied, the bitter jealousy burning in the pit of his stomach again.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" she yelled.

"Davis."

"You're bringing that up again?" Amelia exclaimed. "Well fine! Yes, we've spent time together, went out for dinner a couple of times."

"It's the talk of the base!" Mitchell retorted.

"Then working on a top-secret government project in which you travel to different planets across space must be far duller than the mission reports would suggest," she cried, rubbing her hand across her forehead. "It's just dinner and it's none of your business. I hadn't realised you'd taken such a close interest," she snapped, her voice dripping derision.

Mitchell said nothing.

"If you really must know, I liked him. Actually, I really liked him. I enjoyed his company. He was easy to talk to. He didn't judge me, and he made me laugh," she continued, hearing the hurtful way she was speaking but unable to stop herself. All Mitchell had noticed was the past tense.

"But you…you're like a shadow looming over everything I do."

"You're pissed at _me_?" Mitchell yelled.

She rubbed her forehead with the fingertips "I wasn't blaming you," Amelia shouted as her temper finally snapped. "You're so bloody arrogant! Not everything is about you, you know. This is about me. The sooner I get away from here, the better. I should never have stayed when I realised…" She pressed her lips together to prevent them from betraying her any further and bitterly regretted what she had already confessed.

"And what about Davis, or were you planning to leave him a letter?"

His words were a stinging verbal slap across the face.

"That's a cheap shot." She snatched the paper out of his hand and threw it back on the desk then stood almost toe to toe with him, her eyes narrowed as she glared at him. "And if you must know, I am far too fond of Paul to let him get mixed up in my mess of a life." She meant every word. She wanted to protect Davis, despite her fears about him. It was already too late for Mitchell and she regretted that with every part of her, but she still had to keep him at arm's length. "We're done. Get out!" She held his gaze for a moment then turned on her heels and walked into the kitchen. Just out of sight, she leaned her back against the wall, trying to control the trembling that threatened to take her legs out from under her.

Mitchell's heavy footfall thudded on the wooden floor as he stomped to the door. He pulled it open and stared out into the blackness.

Amelia closed her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief when she heard the door slam shut. She hoped there was still some wine left in the refrigerator and grabbed a glass from the cupboard. She grasped the handle on the refrigerator door, pulling it open with more force than was necessary. "Shit!" she muttered, finding it empty. She pushed the door closed again and jumped back. Mitchell was stood in the doorway.

"No!" he said, simply as he took a few paces towards her. She had nowhere to go. Her backside was pressed against the cupboard and he leaned in, placing his hands on the counter-top, trapping her between his arms. His face was so close; his breath stirred the loose strands of hair against her face.

"No?" she asked with a tremor in her voice. "No, what?"

"No, we're not done and no, I'm not going to leave just because you're afraid, so let's just get this over with and see what happens from there," he said in a low voice that made her skin tingle.

"What are you talking about?"

A flicker of a frown played across Amelia's face, but he didn't answer her. He placed his hand on the nape of her neck, pulling her to him until his lips met hers with an insistence that took her breath away. For a second, she resisted but she couldn't think straight or perhaps didn't want to. He tangled his fingers in her hair and slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her to him. She could feel his muscles tighten as she slid her hands over his chest to his shoulders. The heat of his body penetrated the black t-shirt she had tried so hard not to notice clung to his well-sculpted torso. She felt herself relax, enjoying the familiar feeling of his hands on her body again; three years and two months washed away for a moment.

He murmured her name as he broke the kiss, his fingers flicking open the top two buttons of her shirt and brushing it from her shoulder. His lips grazed the soft flesh of her neck and she pulled his t-shirt free of his jeans, slipping her hands beneath.

"Cam, wait…" she whispered. "We can't do this. You said it yourself. It was a long time ago. We've both changed. We can't just resurrect an old relationship."

He ran the tips of his fingers across her cheek, gently brushing her lips with the pad of his thumb. "Then let's start again." he whispered.


	13. Chapter 13

**My apologies to those of you who are actively following this story. I'm going to be away for a few weeks now with little time to write so hopefully this will keep you going until I'm back to post the next instalment - Thank you for following and for your patience**

Chapter Thirteen

.

Munroe stared out of the window in the office on the fortieth floor. The air conditioning was blasting out, but the pretty young receptionist was still wearing less than Munroe would have wanted to see his daughter in for a night out, never mind at work. Not that she seemed to actually be doing any work. At that moment she was touching up her lip gloss while reading a magazine. She suddenly became aware of Munroe watching her and gave him her biggest smile.

"I'm sure Doctor Hines won't keep you waiting much longer," she said in a squeaky voice that instantly got Munroe's back up.

"I was told to come here. He was quite insistent in fact. The least he could do is be on time," Munroe griped.

The girl looked shocked. "He's a very busy man," she defended.

"Sure," Munroe mumbled.

"I really..." She stopped abruptly as the office door opened and her boss appeared.

"Come in, Munroe," he said.

Munroe glanced at the receptionist who gave him a slightly smug smile and returned to her magazine.

"Take a seat, Colonel Munroe," Adam Hines said, closing the door and moving around the desk but not sitting.

"What do you want?" Munroe demanded.

"What do I want? I want to know why you're still breathing. You should be dead. It seems that Hendrik didn't fully understand her instructions. Now I'm going to have to take a more direct approach."

"You told her to kill me?" Munroe asked.

"You failed. The boss doesn't like failure, but you're in luck. I managed to talk him around...for now."

"I brought back the intel you needed," he said, tapping his temple with his forefinger.

Hines' mouth curled up on one side and he shook his head. "And now you are going to try to negotiate with it I presume?"

"Well, it seems I have something you need and you..."

"...have this." Hines held open his hand and pointed it directly at Munroe.

"What the..." Munroe said, looking from the Hara'kesh in the palm of Hines' hand to his face. The white flash of Hines' eyes was the final confirmation. "You're Goa'uld?" He shot to his feet.

"Surprise," he smiled.

"If you kill me, you'll never get the information," Munroe said, hurriedly.

"I think we both know that is not true, don't we?" Hines replied. "Besides, I believe I can supply you with a little encouragement." He pressed the standby button on the TV remote and the screen flicked on. His wife and children were sat on the floor of a concrete room, bound and gagged. "Your wife is beautiful, Colonel Munroe. She will make a fine host."

"You can't..."

"But I can."

"My children..."

"Are still too young, but they can carry a larval Goa'uld."

"Jaffa?" Munroe felt his legs weaken beneath him and he dropped into the chair again. "You can't."

"Of course I can. But you have a choice. Give me the information provided to you, swear your loyalty to me, and your family will be freed. You need not think they can escape. They will be watched. As will you."

"Hendrik?"

"She is still loyal."

"She didn't kill me," Munroe retorted. "And I happen to know she has a sample of blood from one of those Zertan."

"The sample is from the missing SG team member actually and I already know all about it. You are a very interesting man though, Colonel Munroe. You'd be prepared to sacrifice her in exchange for your own life when she was generous enough to spare yours." Hines shrugged. "No, matter though. Lord Ba'al has a certain fondness for her and seems willing to overlook that particular transgression. Especially as it means we can still access the information we need that you have kindly confirmed is in your head."

"Ba'al? He's dead. They took that snake out of his head."

"Hmm...no."

"This is why you've got Holmes locked away. He knew about you?"

"That would make sense wouldn't it, but he has no idea. He believes we're a bunch of crazy civilians' hell-bent on controlling the Stargate program. Which, of course, we're not. We're a bunch of Goa'uld hell-bent on obtaining control of the galaxy and we're starting with this miserable planet. The Zertan people have pledged their loyalty. It was that or be enslaved. Of course, once we have what we require, slavery will follow regardless."

"Hendrik...doesn't know?"

"And if you wish to keep your family safe then she won't discover the truth. Not until we feel the time is right. Now, do you feel ready to share the information you obtained?"

.

* * *

Amelia rolled over in bed and looked at the clock. It was still only early but she could hear the birdsong and the sun was shining in through the bedroom window. Cursing herself for not closing the blind, she turned onto her side and stretched out her arms. The sheets beside her were still warm. Dragging herself upright, she yawned. For a moment, she thought the previous evening had just been a dream…or a nightmare but the sound of breaking glass and a colourful curse from the kitchen confirmed the reality. "Oh shit!" She pushed the covers off her legs and stood. She glanced at herself in the mirror and shook her head. "Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!" she cursed.

She draped her silk robe over her naked frame, pulling the belt tight. She dragged her fingers through her hair, pushing it from her face and took a deep breath.

The bedroom door opened silently and watched Cam for a moment he cleared the broken glass from the sink. He was wearing only a pair of jogging pants - Adam's, she assumed. He'd already had a shower. His hair was still wet, and his torso glistened. The sight of him almost destroyed her resolve and brought an unwelcome heat to her flesh. Another curse and she could see the blood dripping from his finger. She grabbed the first aid kit from the closet and joined him, shoving his hand under the running cold tap.

"Mornin'." He smiled at her as she dabbed his digit dry with a towel. His gaze swept her body. Her robe was cinched at the waist and clung to her hips. Her hair was curling wildly out of control and she had a crease across her cheek from her pillow, but he'd never been more attracted to her than he was at that moment.

"Morning," she replied, tearing open a bandage and dressing the wound.

"I _was_ gonna bring you breakfast in bed," he said, pointing at the breakfast bar which already held a jug of orange juice and a pot of coffee. "But there's not much I could do with beer, bread and a tomato."

"I suppose not," she replied absently.

"You okay?" He took her hand, but she pulled away and wandered to the sliding doors, her arms wrapped around her body defensively.

"We need to talk," she said, her eyes fixed on the trees, swaying in the breeze.

Mitchell sighed, dropping the cloth he was using to clean up the blood and followed her.

"Why?"

"Because," she replied, still refusing to look up. "Last night shouldn't have happened. It was a mistake. A big mistake."

His heart thumped against his ribs. "Don't say that," he ordered. He reached out, curling his fingers around hers, tightening his grip as she tried to pull her hand away.

"Cam, please…don't." She pushed past him, ripping her hand away from him. She grabbed the first aid kit and returned to the bedroom.

"Millie," he cried out, following her. The door slammed as he approached. He put his hand on the door handle then hesitated, deciding to knock instead. She didn't answer. He hadn't really expected that she would. "Millie, I'm coming in," he said before he slowly opened the door. Peering around, he braced himself for flying objects. She was stood at the tall dresser in the corner, the drawer open. She pulled out a large brown envelope, slightly tatty with wear. The breath she took was audible in the heavy silence of the room.

"Look," she said, handing him the envelope. Gingerly, he took it from her, simply staring at it. "Open it." She sat on the edge of the bed.

He unfolded the top and slid his hand inside. He knew instantly what it contained "Photos?" he asked. Amelia nodded.

"Every photo that we ever took, I think," she smiled weakly but the sadness in her eyes couldn't be disguised and it was tearing him apart. "I take it everywhere I go but I haven't opened it since…I can't even remember when."

"You kept them all this time?"

He pulled the photos from the envelope and flicked quickly through them, his smile becoming broader until he reached the end. He threw them down onto the bed and sat beside Amelia.

"So? You kept the pictures. No harm in that. Plenty of people do it." He felt relieved. As though it proved she must still feel something for him or she wouldn't have kept them.

"It just perpetuates something that should be dead and buried."

"It doesn't have to be. You can't deny we're good together," he whispered, gently pushing her hair behind her ear.

She felt herself flush as she recalled the night they'd spent together and looked at their clothes, strewn around the bedroom. "I kept them because...Three years, Cam, and the minute I see you again I'm back there. Back when we thought there was a chance at a life together. It's pathetic…and it leads to stupid mistakes like last night."

She sighed as he cupped her cheek with his hand, his fingers tangling in her curls. "It nearly killed me when you left, and I thought I'd got you out of my system…until I overheard you telling Vala you didn't know me and then when I saw you with Davis…I was...pissed. I'm still crazy about you, Millie. I wanted to be angry with you. Hell, I've every right to be but…I wouldn't be here if I didn't think there was a chance…"

"I don't know Cam…" she said, picking up a photo from the bed. "Things are complicated. I'll be leaving soon and…" She stopped as Mitchell took the photograph from her hand

Two smiling faces stared back at him. He remembered the day it was taken. They'd taken a picnic to the park and it had rained the moment they'd arrived. Instead, they'd dropped the back seats in Millie's four by four and sat there, eating and drinking like it was the most normal thing in the world. It was the last day he'd seen Amelia and the day before he'd found the letter under the door of his apartment.

Amelia watched as the muscles of his jaw twitched. He handed the photo back to her and heading back into the kitchen. By the time she had joined him, he was wiping his blood off the counter-tops. He didn't look at her – just continued wiping and rinsing, long after the blood had gone. She reached out and placed her hand on his to stop him. He froze but refused to look at her. His lips were pressed tightly together.

"Cam…" she said, gently.

"I have to get back to base," he mumbled, moving past her. "We're due off-world this afternoon."

"Please wait," she cried after him.

"I have to go," he replied as he headed for the bedroom. She followed him, slamming the door closed and leaning heavily against it. He continued as though she wasn't there, pulling on his jeans. She pushed herself away from the door and approached him. His back was still to her so when she reached out to touch him, he was taken by surprise. She heard a sharp intake of breath as he froze.

"Cam, I'm sorry," she whispered. He turned to face her, wrapping his arms around her. She pressed her cheek against his naked chest.

"What happened last night...it wasn't a mistake, Millie. You don't believe that either. You're too controlled, always were. It wouldn't have happened if you hadn't wanted it as much as I did, but you have to decide," he said more gently than she had expected. "I made my choice last night." He bent his head forward, burying his face in her hair, kissing the top of her head before releasing her and pulling on the rest of his clothes.

"I'll walk to the bar and pick up my car. We leave at fourteen hundred, but I'll understand if you don't want to come."

She followed him to the door, her mind racing. As he stepped outside he turned.

"Don't keep me hanging, Millie. If you really don't want this…don't want me, tell me but don't mess with me."

"Let me drive you," she said.

"I need to clear my head." He headed off down the lane. She waited at the door until he was out of sight, but he never looked back.

She returned to the breakfast bar, pulling herself up onto a stool and pouring herself a cup of the coffee Mitchell had made. She sipped it and stared at the parcel that still sat on the counter top.

The envelope taped to the front was hand-written and displayed only her name. She already knew what was inside. She'd been expecting it. She swallowed the last mouthful of coffee and took a deep breath, steeling herself before peeling the envelope from the parcel and ripping it open. She read the letter twice before grabbing a match-book and setting fire to it, dropping the burning paper into the sink. She watched, mesmerised, as the flame consumed it. She then turned her attention to the parcel, running her penknife along the seal and opening it up. Beneath all the packing peanuts was a black leather case. Carefully, she withdrew it, scattering the small foam pieces across the countertop and the floor. She didn't need to open it to know what it contained and it scared her. It felt like a deal with the devil and she wasn't sure that she could live with it for much longer. She threw it viciously across the room, a deep sob taking her breath for a moment as she thought of her father. The ringing of cell phone startled her. She glanced at her watch. It was still only eight thirty.

Carter held the phone to her ear, pacing impatiently as it rang out, unanswered. It was the last possible place she could think of and, going by the intel she'd received, she was certain she was right. Finally, a rather curt "Hello," came from the other end.

"Amelia, I'm sorry to call you so early but…I wondered…do you know…we're trying to get hold of Cam…Colonel Mitchell."

There was a long pause before Amelia spoke again. "I'm sorry, I don't know," she replied.

"I see, only he didn't come back to the base last night and he isn't at home," Carter continued.

"Then I can't help you," Amelia said. As she spoke she saw a light in the bedroom. The screen of a mobile phone. Not one of her pay-as-you-go phones. They were safely stored in the floor safe. It could only be Mitchell's.

Carter heaved a breath. She was doing her best to be diplomatic, but Amelia wasn't making it easy.

"I'm really sorry, Amelia. I know he got in the cab with you last night. Jackson misplaced his wallet and had to go back to the bar. He saw you."

Amelia felt like a naughty child caught out in a lie, but she wasn't about to admit what had happened. "He insisted on making sure I got home safely. I haven't heard from him since I was dropped off here."

"We need you back here too. I'm really sorry, Amelia. Velez is dead."

"Oh god! I'll be there in thirty minutes."

.

* * *

Davis knocked on the door of Amelia's office. There was no answer. He hadn't expected one. He'd already checked with the airmen on security to see if she'd arrived. He swiped his key-card and the door slid open. The office was in darkness, but the lights flickered to life as he entered. Everywhere was perfectly tidy. No papers on the desk. Just the telephone and a glass paperweight, which seemed an ironic choice of ornament. He hesitated for a moment. It didn't feel right, but he had to know what was going on. He wasn't entirely sure if this was loyalty to his country or a need to help her out of whatever mess she'd clearly got herself in but either way, he hated the cloak and dagger stuff. He took a deep breath and forced himself onward, towards her desk and the cabinet beside it. The drawers weren't locked. He'd expected them to be. They slid open soundlessly but contained nothing of any use. The cabinet was locked but he'd been around the military long enough to know that the furniture was rarely top of the range. The lock only worked securely on the top two drawers. The third came free with a bit of wiggling and the bottom one slid out without any trouble. He used his penknife, to free the other two. Two cell phones were tucked at the back of the top drawer underneath a ream of photocopy paper and several protein bars. The second drawer seemed to be where Amelia kept her paperwork. He quickly thumbed through the various folders of notes and reports that were stacked. The last folder was clearly medical results. Information on Munroe, Velez and North. Details of the sample brought back from Zertan. North's blood sample. He didn't know much about medicine, but he understood the word 'genetic mutation'. He read on, his heart pounding. _"Based on current findings, it is my opinion that use of the Stargate and all off-world travel should cease until conclusive evidence is obtained to confirm the genetic mutations found in the blood samples of Major North, Captain Velez, Colonel Holmes and Doctor Daniel Jackson were from causes other than gate travel. The Stargate should be transferred to a secure facility to allow further tests."_

"Doctor Jackson? What samples?" he mumbled to himself. "What the hell are you mixed up in, Amelia?"


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

.

Velez' body lay covered in a white sheet on a gurney in an isolation room. A serious looking Senior Airman stood with his M16 rifle in his hands, guarding the door. Amelia took a deep breath before approaching. She had no idea what she was going to face but she felt a heavy sense of loss over Velez' death. She felt that she had failed her. The airman swiped his card against the door which slid open almost soundlessly. He stepped aside and allowed her to pass. She gave him a quick smile by way of thanks.

Pulling on a pair of blue latex gloves, she stood beside the body. Even after all these years in medicine, she hated to lose a patient. It still affected her personally and always played on her mind for days afterwards as she ran so many different scenarios, wondering if she had missed something; if there was something more she should or could have done. Carefully, she pulled back the sheet and looked into Velez' face. She seemed peaceful for the first time in their short acquaintance.

"Doctor Hendrik, are you okay?" Carter said as stepped into the room.

Amelia turned to look at her, a sudden wave of embarrassment flushing her cheeks. She turned back to Velez to hide her rising colour.

"Just angry," she replied. "I should have been able to find something. It isn't exactly a great record in your first ten days."

Sam said nothing. There was nothing to say.

"God damn it!" Amelia yelled, yanking off the latex gloves and slamming them into the yellow incineration bin.

"It wasn't your fault," Sam reassured her.

"I should have been here!"

"You're no good without rest."

"What happened?"

"I'm sure that Doctor Kaufmann will fill you in."

"We need an autopsy but we're going to need maximum precautions. We know it's not airborne but that's all we know."

"Will you do it?" Sam asked.

"No, I'm not a pathologist. I want a specialist in for this. It'll take some time to set up. I'll call General Sizemore. I'm sure he'll know someone. In the meantime, I'll have her transferred to the morgue." She glanced back at the body. "God, this is all such a mess," she mumbled under her breath.

"Are you…" Carter started then hesitated, looking down at her feet for a second. Amelia waited. "I just wondered if you might want to…we're supposed to be going back to P four X nine eight two this afternoon. I thought you might not want to come."

She didn't. It was the last place she wanted to be, but she needed to get back now more than ever.

"It'll be fine. I'll be fine. We need to bring North home and he may need medical attention."

"Kaufmann could go in your place?"

Amelia shook her head. "No, really. It's fine. I'll be ready." She paused. Time to plant a seed but Carter was smart. She needed to be careful. "I don't suppose...no, never mind." She headed for the door.

"Doctor Hendrik?"

"Sorry, it's just...Velez, Holmes, North...according to their records they've been involved in the program for some time. Is it possible that the gate is causing...some kind of chemical reaction."

Sam shook her head. "I don't see how. SG1 have probably been through that gate more times than many of the other teams. Certainly more than SG21. We're not affected."

Amelia raised her eyebrows. "We don't know that though, do we?"

.

* * *

Commander Yellan placed the report down on the table and looked up at the young man stood before him. His son. His pride and joy. The inventor of the formula that would save them from slavery. The tests on the human clones had gone better than they could have anticipated according to everything he had just read. Only one obstacle remained. The memory graft had been unsuccessful but had caused irreparable damage to the brain of the human. North was dead.

"You have done well. It is a pity about the human, though."

"There really was nothing that we could do. The grafts have worked on the inhabitants of this world with no ill effects. I am still trying to find a reason. Perhaps they are simply weaker?"

Yellan shook his head. "The system lords would not have chosen them as hosts if they were weak."

"I have the formula and the sample ready for transport," Kathan replied.

"No!" Yellan got to his feet. "Do not give them the formula. Once they have that they will have no need of us. We will agree to produce as much as need. We should start immediately, but we cannot let them have the means to make it themselves."

"Father, they cannot. Even with the formula. They would need arcenitsite. As far as I am aware I am the only person who knows how that can be created. There are no natural deposits any longer. It is highly volatile and burns at an uncommonly low temperature."

His father seemed to consider this for a moment. "And you have not written this down?" Kathan shook his head. "And you are sure that this woman will not be able to reverse engineer it from the blood or the sample we are going to provide?"

"No, father. You have my word."

"Then we will be necessary. They will need us still."

"And that is the beauty."

"They will send an agent with the next party that comes through the gate. You will provide them with the sample as agreed."

"Yes, father."

"Once they see what it is capable of…"

.

* * *

Amelia booted up her computer. She needed to complete the report. She needed to present her evidence and using Daniel Jackson, as a member of SG1, was perfect but it wasn't her idea and she didn't like it one bit. It was nothing more than sacrificing one member of SG1 for another in her opinion. Jackson for Mitchell and no matter her feelings for Mitchell, it wasn't right. She had only selected Jackson because she had had the least personal involvement with him. It had to be someone high profile and Jackson had been there from the start. She dragged her hair out of her face and looked at her watch. It was after lunch. She didn't know where the time had gone. Another forty-five minutes and she was due off world again. She wanted to stay Earth-side but she had her instructions. She hated herself and what she knew she had to do.

"Amelia," a voice called out.

She spun around in her seat. Davis stood in the doorway, watching her. "Paul!" The smile came easily to her lips, a slight flush in her cheeks, he noticed. Genuinely pleased to see him. She had no idea and that just made things harder.

"Can I come in?" he asked. A frown fluttered across her brow.

"You normally don't wait to be invited," she replied.

He tried to match her relaxed manner but his muscles were tense.

"Yeah," he said, walking across the room but he didn't stop at her desk. He was pacing. "I need to talk to you, Amelia. About your investigation. About Holmes, I guess, and the results you got back. You think it's the gate?"

"Ah, official?" Amelia swallowed back the lump in her throat. "I think there might be some link but we need to arrange more tests and...Look, Paul. It's a long story and I don't have time now. I need to get changed. I'm due off-world soon and..."

"Don't go," he demanded.

"What? No, you know I have to."

"Amelia, you're making a mistake. I don't know why and I'm not even sure I understand what but..." He dragged his fingers through his hair. "I'm going to have to go to Landry unless you talk to me, right now."

Amelia looked at him, met his stare but it didn't contain the cold hardness she had expected. Instead he looked worried. She felt tears prick her eyes and blinked them away.

"I have to go, Paul. I can't...please. Just give me until I get back. I'll meet you for dinner. In fact, come to the cabin. I'll tell you everything. Hell, what does it matter any more anyway. I'm in way over my head."

He approached, reaching out and curling his fingers around the tops of her arms. "Amelia, I just want to help you."

"Then don't tell Landry anything. Not yet. Please, give me the chance to explain and set it right. Just not now. I have to go through with this and it would be better if..."

They stood silently, eyes locked together. Davis' gaze flicked to her lips momentarily and she subconsciously ran her tongue along them. He took his hands from her arms, placing his right hand on her cheek. His hands were soft, his touch gentle. Her heart thudded in her chest and the sound of blood rushing in her ears blocked out everything else. She closed her eyes as his lips met hers, tentative and uncertain. She placed her hand on his chest, feeling the heat of his body through the cotton. She wanted to flick the buttons, to feel his flesh against her fingertips.

Instead, she pushed him away. "I'm sorry," she said.

"No, I should be...I mean I..."

"Wait for me to come back. We can talk about anything you want. I'll tell you everything...and then perhaps we should talk about this," Amelia said.

"This?"

"You and me and...Us."

"Us? I wasn't sure 'us' was an option."

"I don't know...perhaps if you...I have some things I need to get straight in my head. I'm a mess right now."

"And this isn't just a ploy to stop me talking to Landry?"

Amelia sighed. She could understand why he would think that but it hurt. "If it'll make you believe me then tell him everything you think you know."

He seemed to consider this for a moment. "Okay, we'll talk tonight but...you have to be honest."

"You have my word." She squeezed his hand and walked out of the office. He exhaled deeply, shook his head and wondered just what the hell he thought he was doing.

.

* * *

Mitchell marched down the corridor with Carter and two of the Zerantian guards. From the corner of his eye, he could see that their fingers were never far from their holstered weapons. A swift raise of an eyebrow from Carter indicated that she had noticed the same thing. As they reached the threshold of the Zerantian's facility the older of the two guards barked at them.

"Stop. Wait!"

"Like my Grandma would say, 'manners cost nothing'," Mitchell mumbled. Carter stifled a laugh.

"Where is your colleague?"

"You tell me. I don't keep her on a leash," Mitchell replied impatiently. "Although I sometimes think that might not be a bad idea. It just takes so long to train them."

The guards just stared.

"I guess my sense of humour doesn't travel, huh?" he grumbled.

The second of the two guards retraced his steps, returning moments later with a rather flushed Amelia. She threw a strange smile at Mitchell and glared towards the exit. Mitchell frowned and gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head.

"Go!" she mouthed.

"Colonel Mitchell, there is much we still have to discuss," came the imposing tones of Commander Yellan. "I look forward to our next meeting and please, pass on my condolences to the family of your deceased comrade. I wish that we could have prevented his demise and I am ashamed that it happened under my command."

"I'll be sure to do that," Mitchell replied.

"Doctor Hendrik, I hope that our medical team has proved useful and provided you with something that will help the sick and injured who returned to you."

"Sadly, Commander Yellan, it was too late for them but it has been most enlightening. Thank you," she replied. "I'm sure that we'll meet again very soon." She took the first step through the atmospheric force field and across the line of demarcation between ancient and modern. The desert heat hit her and almost took away her breath after the cool, clean air of the Zerantian facility. Mitchell and Carter said their goodbyes and followed her through.

Her pace was increasing as she made her way along the stone corridor and to the large metal door at the end. She practically ran down the stairs, encouraging Mitchell and Carter to hurry.

"We have to get out of here, fast!" she said in a throaty whisper, as the sandy air dried her mouth.

"What the hell is going on, Hendrik?" Mitchell asked.

"The medic I was with. He was the Commanders eldest son…" Amelia began.

"Wait! Was…" Mitchell cried.

"He had an accident."

"What sort of accident?" he called after her as she started to run towards the village gates.

"The sort where he accidentally stabbed himself in the jugular vein with a scalpel and bled to death in the cold storage room. So, we need to get out of here before they find his body."

Mitchell's eyes widened, his face reddening and his mouth open, ready to berate her but she jumped in before he could speak.

"They had tissue and DNA samples from every member of SG21, Cam. They were cloning. Now we need to get the hell out of here before..."

"Had?" Carter asked.

Amelia smiled. "Had!" she repeated, patting her rucksack.

.

Commander Yellan followed his security team to the medical centre. The door to the cold storage room was wide open and at the back of the room, partially hidden beneath a metal workbench, was the body of Kathan, lying a pool of dark, thickening blood. Yellan got down to his knees and looked into the lifeless eyes of his son. He reached out and stroked his hair before pulling himself upright.

"Father," a dark-haired girl of around fourteen years sobbed as she slipped her hand into Commander Yellan's. "Why would anybody kill him? He is just a physician."

Yellan had never been completely honest with his daughter. Protecting her and protecting his own reputation in her eyes had been everything to him. He wondered if that was, perhaps, why Kathan was lying dead at his feet now. He had always tried to live up to his father's expectations. The experiments had been pushed and pushed with Kathan always wanting to show his father just how good he was. Perhaps if he had allowed him to be a teacher, as he had wanted in his younger days, Kathan would be alive now. But now he had to think of his people.

"Your brother was a good man. The best of men, my daughter. Remember that. We will avenge his death. We will destroy the men from Earth who have done this to us," Yellan cried. Clutching his daughter's hand more tightly than ever he turned to his second in command. "Sound the alarms."

"What about the agreement, Commander?" Hustad replied, a hint of panic in his voice. "I understand that you are...upset...but you must think of our people."

He considered for a moment, his gaze shifting from his daughter to the body of his son sprawled on the floor. "Are we not strong? Are we not well armed?"

"So were the rest of our people and still our planet was overrun by the system lords and our people destroyed or enslaved," Hustad pressed. "We were lucky to escape with our lives. We owe it to those who did not survive to protect our population and to do that we need the humans. We cannot..."

"We will fight. We will not be slaves to anyone," Yellan said, his face crimson. "Activate the troops. Shoot to kill."

.

SG1 were at the gates of the village when the alarm rang out. The villagers disappeared into their houses, clearly aware of what was to come. Within seconds, dozens of guards spewed from the door in the stone building. They wore heavy black armour and helmets. Mitchell hoped that it would buy them a little time. They picked up pace, running as quickly as the sand would allow them. Carter was the first to reach the gate, dialling in the address for Earth. The movement of the ring whilst it locked in the symbols seemed interminable. Amelia was the only one of the three of them who was unarmed. Her frustration was almost overwhelming. She knew that she was a better shot than either Mitchell or Carter who were currently defending their position. The alien guards were getting ever closer. Amelia slipped off her rucksack and snatched Mitchell's Beretta M9 from his holster, ignoring his objections, and began to fire. She took out two of the oncoming soldiers with direct hits to their legs.

The whoosh of the wormhole forming was a huge relief. Mitchell keyed in the code to the IDC and waited for confirmation. Finally, it came through.

"We're coming in hot," he called into his radio as Amelia and Carter continued to return fire.

"Go!" Mitchell cried out to them.

"Hendrik," Carter yelled over the sound of the alien weapons. Amelia backed up the steps, still firing. Carter stepped through fully expecting Amelia to be right behind her. Mitchell could see her from the corner of his eye.

"Millie, get out of here!" he shouted.

"I'm not leaving without you. We go together, now!" she replied. They both turned and raced up the stairs. A shot hit the gate to their right. Mitchell automatically ducked but a second shot caught him in the arm. Amelia saw the blood spreading on the sleeve of his desert camouflage. She shoved him through the gate. She fired one last time, hitting a soldier in the neck. Blood gushed from the wound. Quickly she turned, snatching up the rucksack and pulling it over her left shoulder. Something caught her eye as she made to step through. It looked like some kind of camera. A crackle of electricity filled the air. Amelia felt the heat on her back and the searing pain as the force of the bolt pushed her into the Stargate.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

.

Security had filled the gate room and the medics were on standby just outside the door, hoping they wouldn't be required, waiting for the all-clear to check over the returning travellers.

As Amelia appeared, the iris curled closed and the doors were released. The medical team rushed in and immediately began to remove Mitchell's jacket. Amelia took a step forward, pain searing through her body and taking her breath away. She reached out, trying to grab the handrail but the exertion was too much for her. The sound of her body hitting the ramp stunned the room into silence. They stared for what seemed like endless seconds before Mitchell pulled himself free of the nurse who was trying to look at his wound and rushed back up the ramp. He dropped to his knees, any pain forgotten as he turned Amelia carefully and slid his arm under her neck. Her eyes rolled in their sockets, her breathing came in rattling gasps and she let out a feeble groan. The fabric of her jacket was blackened, and the bloody, red flesh was raw and exposed.

"Cam," Amelia whispered, wincing with pain and clutching at his t-shirt. Perspiration trickled down her face, streaking the dirt with pale lines.

"Don't talk," he said, pushing her hair from her face. "You're gonna be fine."

"The bag. Is it here?" she asked.

Mitchell looked around. It was at the top of the ramp. He nodded.

"The samples…It's important…" Her voice faltered, and she was using every last bit of her strength. "Kaufmann…he'll understand…my notes…password…Tom and Jerry…"

Mitchell smiled. "Our goldfish," he said, recalling the two goldfish they had won on a trip to a country fair back home in Auburn. It was the first time his mother had told him that he should marry a girl he'd brought home. He wasn't sure if that had been an indication of her approval of Amelia or her desperation to be a Grandma, but it had been good enough for him either way.

"Colonel, please…You have to let us help her." The voice came from over his shoulder, but he didn't recognise it.

"Who the hell are you? Where's Kaufmann?" Mitchell said to the grey-haired doctor who was trying to extract Amelia from his grasp.

"He's on his way. I'm Doctor Tanner. I'm a trauma specialist. She's in good hands. You have my word," the doctor replied, calmly, reassuringly "You have to let us help her now."

"On the gate…camera…they'll know…sequence…"

"Millie, stop talking, please."

She looked past him, toward the operations room and into the horrified face of Paul Davis. "Tell Paul...I'm sorry...I...was...oh god...I'm so sorry."

"I'll tell him," Mitchell promised.

"No, you don't...understand." She grasped Mitchell's clothing tighter, trying to pull herself up. "You have to listen," she rasped. "Tell him...get Holmes...out before..." Her focus was blurry now and her grasp weakened. Mitchell held her close. "Promise?"

"I promise," he replied although she was making no sense.

She reached up to touch his face, her lips moving but she could no longer speak. Her arm dropped, and her eyes closed.

"Millie…" Mitchell gasped as the medical team surrounded him, taking Amelia from him and pushing him out of the way. Jackson approached and helped him to his feet. He was covered in blood, Amelia's and his own. He still couldn't take her eyes off her. She lay perfectly still on the metal ramp, her blood pooling beneath her. His stomach cramped, and he thought he was going to be sick. Physical pain consumed him, but it wasn't from his injury. He didn't even notice that now despite a very determined nurse trying to rinse it with saline as he stood there. Everything seemed to be playing out in slow motion, almost as though he was watching a movie.

"We need to patch you up, Colonel. That's pretty deep." The voice sounded a thousand miles away and he shrugged off the attention.

Landry was stood in the gate room now, talking to Carter, trying to find out what happened but she couldn't explain. She hadn't heard the conversation that had passed between Mitchell and Amelia.

The medics lifted Amelia off the metal floor and onto a gurney and pressed a stethoscope to her chest.

"No respiration. She's in VF," Doctor Tanner shouted. "We're losing her." The security team were already making their way out. Landry hesitated for a moment before following Carter out. Tanner cut through Amelia's t-shirt.

"Stand clear! Charging!" a middle-aged female doctor called out. The machine made a whining noise as it came up to full charge. "Stand clear! Shocking!" She quickly looked about to ensure all hands were clear of the patient and applied the paddles. Amelia's body jerked, and Mitchell had to turn away. He felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Come on, there's nothing you can do now," Jackson said.

Mitchell allowed himself to be led from the gate room and towards of the mess, the cries of the medics fading in the distance.

Major Davis watched the scene unfold from the operations room, his heart pounding and his lips pressed together. He was rooted to the spot, fighting the urge to rush down and follow them to the infirmary. It was bad enough that there were rumours flying without helping to fuel them, though. That, and the fact that his suspicions were still pricking the back of his mind. He was fond of Amelia. Too fond, possibly. No, not possibly. Definitely, and to hell with rumour, he thought, turning to race down and follow the medical team. The man stood behind him, startling him, and he took a step backwards.

"Major Davis, General Landry has asked that you meet him in his office."

He nodded vaguely, glancing over his shoulder at the emptying gate room for just a beat.

.

* * *

Commander Yellan was pacing his office, his daughter sat in the corner sobbing. Marlag rushed in, standing still and straight and waiting to be acknowledged. With the slightest inclination of his head, Yellan encouraged the man to speak.

"The woman, the doctor. She was killed. The others escaped," Marlag said.

"Where is her body?" Yellan asked.

"It fell back through the gate."

Yellan rounded on him. "Then you cannot be sure she is dead," he screamed. Marlag took a step backwards. "Did the equipment record the gate address?"

Marlag nodded.

"Get a team prepared. We have not had cause to use such drastic action but…" He stopped. Marlag waited. Yellan took a deep breath and began again.

"Sir, they will see it as war. They could attack. They are our allies."

"It is survival." Yellan stood toe to toe with Marlag. "You do not understand anything!" he shouted. "The agreement was not with the people from Earth. My agreement was with the system lords. The Goa'uld. I was trying to protect our people. The humans are not strong enough. Even our combined efforts could not help. They have already infiltrated Earth although the humans believe that they have defeated them. They live amongst them, in secret. The woman was their agent...a traitor to her own people, although it seems she had a change of heart. We were once a mighty civilisation. With the Goa'uld, we can be strong again."

Marlag took another step back and lowered his gaze. His mind raced. The Commander had lied to them all, made them believe that the people from Earth would help them in their stand against the Goa'uld when all the time he had been in league with them. The Commander's naivety was dangerous and could only lead to slavery or annihilation and Marlag wasn't going to allow either without a fight.

.

* * *

Markus Kaufmann ran through the base towards the surgical unit. Amelia was already on the operating table as he scrubbed in. Kaufmann pulled the mask over his face and pushed his way through the door. The lights were much brighter in here and he squinted for a moment as his eyes adjusted to the change.

"How's she doing?" he asked.

Doctor Tanner sighed and shook his head. "She seems stable for the moment. BP is reasonable, heart-rate okay. I think it's the best we're going to get. We should press on."

"Lungs? She had a pneumothorax, right?" Kaufmann asked.

"Yeah, but the chest tube seemed to do the trick."

Kaufmann looked at the wound and shook his head. "Right, let's get started." Tanner picked up a scalpel from the trolley to his left and began to cut away the charred flesh.

.

* * *

Landry sat at the head of the conference table in the briefing room, his fingers knitted together and his hands resting on the table top, deep in thought. Sam Carter was sat to his left, staring at the folder in front of her but actually paying it very little attention. In the last three hours she had showered twice and changed but couldn't wash away what she'd seen in the gate room. Vala crept into the room and sat opposite Sam. Landry took a deep breath and the two women looked at him but he didn't speak.

Vala cleared her throat. "I did tell Colonel Mitchell that his attendance was required," she said in a soft, apologetic tone. She had been very clear with him, as Landry had been with her but there was no moving him. He had never made it to the mess with Jackson, instead, detouring to the medical room. They hadn't let him in so he'd stood outside the door, which is where Vala had found him three hours later.

"You told him it was an order?" Landry asked although he didn't doubt her.

"Yes, sir," she replied. "And he suggested that there were various ways in which he might revoke my breathing privileges if I didn't leave him alone."

"Well I guess I'll have to start without him," Landry said. "So, Colonel Carter, what the hell happened?" Sam widened her eyes and shrugged her shoulders. "I really wish I knew, sir. We'd had an incident when we arrived. A man tried to talk to us and the Zerantian's shot him. Claimed that it was a ploy to infect us but…well…Doctor Hendrik certainly wasn't convinced and he seemed sincere. She'd already encountered one of the locals. The one who returned Marsh's ID tags."

Landry nodded. He could hardly forget. He'd had to visit Marsh's wife. Nobody had told him she was seven months pregnant.

"Anything else?"

"I know that Amelia had stolen some tissue samples. That's what she was so desperate to tell Colonel Mitchell when she…when she returned." Carter paused as the vision of the bloodied mess of Doctor Hendrik returned to her mind. Bile rose in her throat. Carter mentally shook herself. "They suggested that there was a lot that they could share with us. They seemed particularly proud of their renewable energy and a self-sustaining force field that allowed them to effectively live in a desert but with all the terraforming of an Earth-like planet."

"In exchange for what?"

"That's just the thing, sir. They didn't want anything other than the opportunity to visit Earth. They seem to believe that it's their planet of origin and they were hoping that they might be able to find some evidence. They also suggested that our alliance could assist us against mutual enemies. They seemed technologically advanced and it seemed a reasonable exchange. It's not as if we haven't done it before, after all," Carter replied.

"That doesn't explain the tissue samples."

She shook her head. "I just don't know."

"I do!" Mitchell entered the room, his shoulders slumped and his head down. He dropped into the seat beside Carter and slouched down.

"Glad you could join us, Colonel Mitchell," Landry snapped.

"Sorry I'm late, sir," Mitchell added.

"So?" Landry pressed.

Mitchell took a deep breath before he spoke. "Doctor Hendrik told me there was an accident in the medical lab."

"An accident?" Landry said, growing more impatient.

Mitchell stared at his fingernails for a moment. "An incident then. She stabbed the guy she was working with in the neck. My guess is, they found his body."

Davis felt sick. He couldn't believe that she was a stone cold killer. Didn't want to.

"Doctor Hendrik killed him?" Vala asked, her eyes wide and her mouth falling open.

Mitchell turned on Vala "Just what exactly are you doing here anyway?"

"Colonel Mitchell, that's enough," Landry yelled. "Why did she kill him?"

"I don't know. She didn't get a chance to tell me but she sure was determined that I got the samples to Kaufmann."

Davis spoke for the first time "A few samples aren't worth killing over though, surely?" he said quietly, shaking his head.

Mitchell stared at him for a second, rage in his eyes. "It was clearly important. He must have given her no other option," Mitchell growled out through gritted teeth.

"It had better be important after all this," Landry said, a hint of anger in his voice.

"Well, she was dying and very nearly used her last breath to tell me so I'd say it was, wouldn't you," Mitchell yelled back, before clamping his mouth shut. The room fell silent.

"Is that all she told you?" Davis ventured. Again, he was met by Mitchell's volcanic stare but a frown suddenly furrowed his brow.

"Actually, she told me to tell you that she was sorry and that you should get Holmes out."

Davis felt his body tense.

"What does that mean?" Sam asked, looking directly at Davis who simply shrugged.

Kaufmann had been stood in the doorway, quietly watching proceedings but now he stepped inside. "I had a call from the hospital. Holmes slipped into a coma this morning. Perhaps she just meant to get him out of that?" he suggested. "Although I'm not sure that she knew."

"Doctor, was there something?" Landry asked.

Kaufmann cleared his throat, realising he'd interrupted a conversation he had no part in. "Yes sir, sorry. I just wanted to let you know. Doctor Hendrik's come out the other side of the surgery. She'll probably need more but…not until she's stronger. We'll have to wait and see."

He could feel Mitchell's eyes staring hard at him, waiting for more.

"She's stable but…" He paused as he caught Mitchell's gaze. "Well, I've done everything I can for now. We've stemmed the bleeding. She's had a transfusion and...Look, she's in pretty bad shape but if she makes it through the next forty-eight hours then I think she'll stand a fighting chance."

Mitchell pushed his chair away from the table and stood.

"Sit down, Colonel," Landry ordered. Mitchell hesitated for just a moment before obeying. "The rest of you are dismissed."

Vala and Carter hurried from the room, both still numb.

"I should speak with the Pentagon," Davis said.

Landry shook his head. "Not yet, Major."

"But sir..." His objection was half-hearted.

"That was an order, Major Davis." Landry's voice was raised but Davis couldn't have felt more relieved. He nodded and left the room to chase down Kaufmann.

.

Landry stared with cold, angry eyes, across the table at Mitchell. "Colonel Mitchell, when you joined the SGC I said you couldn't be as perfect as your record would make you seem. I asked you what your kryptonite was."

"I remember, sir," Mitchell replied, almost certain he knew the turn this conversation was about to take.

"Well, I think we've found it in the form of Doctor Amelia Hendrik. I was disappointed when she refused to consider replacing Carolyn on a permanent basis but it seems she was wiser than I gave her credit for. The sooner she's gone, the better. In the meantime, I'm prepared to authorise the leave you asked for."

"I don't want it now, sir," Mitchell replied.

"You're no good to me right now, Colonel," Landry replied.

"Just give me a couple of days…I'll be fine."

Landry nodded. "Off the base."

"Not gonna happen...sir."


	16. Chapter 16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

.

Markus Kaufmann adjusted the IV and checked the monitors surrounding Amelia Hendrik in the intensive care unit. Her condition hadn't changed in the last five days which both comforted and concerned Markus. The fact that she hadn't deteriorated, which is what he had expected, was a good sign but he was still unable to get her off the ventilator. He knew that that longer she relied on it, the more danger of infection and damage to her lungs. Blood had been taken every few hours and Kaufmann had checked it for the same genetic mutation that they suspected had killed Velez. So far, the checks had been negative. For some reason, it offered Kaufmann little comfort. He had expected her to show signs of regaining consciousness by now.

"Has he been here all night again?" Kaufmann asked the nurse who was at her desk in the middle of her handover briefing with her day-shift replacement. The nurse looked over at the chair beside Amelia's bed. Mitchell sat, dozing.

"He refused to leave. I tried to tell him but…" she replied with a raised eyebrow and a shrug of the shoulders.

Kaufmann sighed, watching him for a moment. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest as he slept made him feel slightly guilty about waking him. He placed his hand on Mitchell's shoulder. His eyes snapped open and his head shot up. He immediately looked over at Amelia, then shook his head as grim reality settled on him again.

"You need to get some rest," Kaufmann said gently.

"I'm fine," he snapped.

"She isn't going to recover any faster because you're sat watching over her and wallowing in guilt," Kaufmann said, hoping the direct approach might do the trick.

"Guilt?" Mitchell frowned.

"Well, whatever it is that's keeping you here. It isn't going to help."

"I guess you were sick the day they covered bedside manner in med school," Mitchell grumbled.

"Suit yourself." He pressed a button on the cardiac monitor and it spat out a long thin strip of paper which he examined for a moment, before tearing it from the machine.

"You said forty-eight hours. It's been nearly a week. What's going on? Why aren't we getting the Tok'ra in here with that healing thing they use?" Mitchell's voice was low and accusatory.

"I spoke to General Landry about contacting them. He's thinking it over," Kaufmann said, wandering away.

His noncommittal answer irritated Mitchell and he jumped to his feet.

"And that's all I get? He's thinking it over?"

Kaufmann rolled his eyes. "Mitchell, it wasn't your fault you know?"

"It's not about that. For God's sake Doc…"

Kaufmann's brows knitted as he watched a mixture of emotions play across Mitchell's face and he suddenly understood.

"You want honesty?" Kaufmann asked.

Mitchell hesitated for a moment, unsure himself. "Yeah," he said at last.

"Her heart stopped three times before we even got her to the theatre. We almost lost her twice on the table. I withdrew sedation yesterday afternoon and there was no sign of her regaining consciousness. My words were, if she survived for forty-eight hours then she stood a chance. She's done that. The very fact that she's still here at all is little short of a miracle, so give me a break, okay?" he replied, a harshness to his voice that surprised the nurses listening behind him. He looked at Mitchell for a moment and then smiled. "Give yourself one too. Go home, _please_ get a shower, get some sleep. You're no good to anyone, least of all her, in this state."

He didn't give Mitchell the opportunity to reply, walking quickly from the room. Mitchell returned to his seat.

.

* * *

Marlag hurried through the village and into the desert beyond. He prayed that he could get to the gate before he was spotted. He had taken the coordinates that the humans had dialled, memorising them...he hoped. He told himself every step of the way that he was doing the right thing. That Commander Yellan was wrong to attack but he couldn't shake the feeling of betrayal. The gate loomed before him. The camera was still in position on the side. Once he had dialled it would only be a matter of minutes before guards were sent after him. His determination waned slightly at the thought of his brother, his wife and his children. If he stepped through the gate it could be the last time he ever saw them.

As he approached the dialling device he knew it was time to make a decision. His hand hesitated over the first symbol. He thought again about his family. He remembered his home planet and the annihilation of the people. Yellan risked bringing this on them again. He slammed his hand on the first key, not stopping until he was done and had pressed the red dome in the centre. The wormhole whooshed, leaving a watery circle. He glanced behind him, glanced at his wrist and took a deep breath.

.

* * *

"Thanks for coming," Kaufmann said as Sam joined her at the door of the intensive care unit. They both stared through the glass and Sam sighed, realising why Kaufmann had called for her. "He's not left here since she came out of surgery. He's getting tetchy too."

"And you want me to speak with him?" Sam asked.

Kaufmann turned to her, his right eyebrow shooting up. "No, Colonel Carter. I want you to get him out of my ICU," he replied.

Sam shrugged. "I'll do my best." She pushed the door open and slipped inside. The nurse gave her a nervous smile and her eyes flicked to Mitchell who seemed unaware of the visitor.

"Cam?"

"Don't start," Mitchell snapped.

"You're supposed to be the commanding officer of SG1. You're going to be no good to the team or the program if you're exhausted and starving yourself," Sam lectured.

"Well, that's a new angle," Mitchell muttered.

"It's also true. General Landry sent me with orders that you are to leave the room, get some food and get some rest." Her words were met with silence. She sighed. "Seriously, Cam. He's going to relieve you of command. Is it really worth losing your career over?"

His only response was a deep breath. He looked down at his feet.

"And I'm telling you that you _really_ need a shower!"

To her surprise, he got to his feet.

"It's my fault she's here," he said.

Sam reached out and touched his arm, smiling and nodding her head towards the door. "They've got roast beef."

"You trying to twist my arm?" he replied.

"That was going to be my next move," Carter teased.

.

* * *

Major Paul Davis watched as Sam and Mitchell left the ICU before slipping inside. He hesitated in the doorway, looking over at the still body of Amelia, her chest rising and falling mechanically as the ventilator breathed for her. He could feel his hands shaking.

"Major?" Kaufmann called over to him, briefly wondering if he'd got rid of one visitor only to have him replaced with another, equally difficult one.

"Doctor."

"Is there…something I can help you with?" Kaufmann asked.

Davis shook his head. "How's she doing?" he asked at last.

"Assuming I can get her off the ventilator, I think she'll make it. It'll take some time to make a complete recovery although I'm hoping that I can persuade General Landry to contact the Tok'ra."

Davis turned sharply to look at him. "You asked him already?"

"Sure, yesterday."

Davis nodded. "Okay," he said. "I'll…I'm going to…" He hesitated for just a moment then hurried from the room trying to formulate a way to persuade Landry.

Kaufmann watched him, puzzled then shrugged and returned to his work.

.

* * *

Mitchell stabbed his fork into the thickly cut piece of beef on his plate. The rest of the meal was untouched.

"Colonel Munroe is AWOL," Carter said, attempting to distract her colleague. Mitchell just grunted. "Last time anyone saw him was three days ago. He was trying to visit Colonel Holmes in the hospital. They stopped him in the lobby but he punched one of the security guards and ran. A team was sent to his home but he wasn't there. His wife and kids are missing too."

Mitchell said nothing. Just continued attacking his meat.

Carter watched him for a moment before snatching the fork from his hand. "I think it's dead," she said.

"Sorry," Mitchell replied. "I guess I'm not all that hungry. And it's just not as good as back home." He hadn't thought about Auburn for so long. Now it reminded him of the first time he'd taken Amelia to meet his parents and how much they'd loved her. Then how much his mother had teased and suggested she started knitting baby clothes. They'd been almost as heartbroken as he was when she left him.

"It wasn't your fault, Cam."

"She should have been armed. I wouldn't let her take a weapon," Mitchell said

"She seemed to handle herself pretty well with a scalpel," Sam reminded him.

"That was different. I was so..." He stopped.

They sat in silence again for a few minutes as Sam finished her sandwich. The mess was empty aside from them and deathly quiet. She dabbed her lips with the paper napkin.

"Who is she, Cam?" she asked him, pushing her plate out of the way and leaning towards him across the table.

Mitchell met her gaze for a moment, then shook his head. "Doesn't matter," he replied.

"I think it does…or rather _she_ does…to you, anyway."

Mitchell stared down at the beef on his plate and the gravy congealing as it grew colder. "It was a long time ago. She was part of the medical team after Antarctica," he replied, skirting the question.

Sam smiled. "And?" she pressed.

He'd never spoken about it since it happened. He wasn't sure he was capable of it now but Sam didn't shift her gaze from him, waiting. He sighed. "I was well into my recovery when she was assigned to me. They told me she could help with the headaches, coordination problems. She wasn't like the others though." He smiled as he spoke, recalling their first meeting. "Hell, she was blunt. Told it like it was. I remember she told me that being nice to me wasn't in her job description."

"Sounds like she hasn't mellowed much," Sam chuckled.

Mitchell shook his head. "Not really. Other folks, staff and visitor, were all being so nice, so kind but she...really wasn't. A conversation with her was like a spending an hour with a Sodan warrior…and I always came away bruised but I looked forward to her coming each day. More than that…" He smiled at the memory. "I fell for her…hard. Probably from the day we met."

Sam raised her eyebrows. "Wow!" She hadn't expected such brutal honesty. "What happened?"

His expression clouded. The light in his eyes died and the smile slipped from his lips. "She left. One day I was buying a ring. Next day I got a 'Dear John' letter under the door."

"A ring?" Sam exclaimed almost choking on her diet Coke. "It was _that_ serious?"

He started jabbing at the beef with his knife. "Yeah. It was that serious. Even found a place to live. A ranch. Great place to bring up kids. We'd talked about..." He stopped abruptly. Sam said nothing. "Doesn't matter," he mumbled.

"And then she turns up here," Sam said. "That must have been a hell of a shock. I know it was to her."

His head snapped up from his plate, his eyes narrowing. "What do you mean?"

"I met her in the restroom the day she arrived. She was...well she didn't look well. I'd just left you in the corridor. I guess you two had just crossed paths?"

Mitchell nodded. "Behaved like she'd never seen me before, like she had a right to be pissed at me!"

"You didn't really make any effort either, Cam."

Mitchell said nothing.

"So, what now?" Sam asked.

He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly through his nose. "I dunno."

Carter returned his fork to him and pointed at his food. "Start with eating."

He jabbed it into the mashed potato and scooped some into his mouth before dropping the cutlery back onto the plate with an ear-shattering crash and pushing it all away from him. "I can't," he said.

"Cam, I know you spent the night with her," she said quietly.

"She told you?" he snapped.

"God, no!" Sam cried. "It was the day Velez died. We were trying to call you. I called her to see if she'd seen you. She denied she had. I told her Jackson saw you both getting into a cab and she still denied you'd stayed but…"

Mitchell looked away. "We're both grown-ups," he said defensively.

"I suppose what I'm trying to say is if you two are…I don't know…picking up where you left off, then it might be better if she doesn't travel with SG1 again. General Landry can reassign her."

Mitchell stared at her, incredulous.

"Don't you think we should wait to see if she survives first?" he growled then shook his head. "I don't wanna talk about this right now. I'm gonna go clean up and then I'm going back to the ICU."

"You have to give it some thought. You know you can't be objective if…"

" _UNSCHEDULED OFF WORLD ACTIVATION_ " Walter Harriman's voice interrupted, ringing out through the base as the sirens sounded.

"Quite the pickle, ain't it?" he said, deliberately exaggerating his southern accent. He forced a smile, pushed back his chair and left her alone.

.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

.

Landry stared out of the control room window as the iris curled closed over the Stargate. The blue reflection of the event horizon shimmered on the back wall as the security team raced into the gate room, taking up position. They hadn't anticipated the figure materialising on this side of the protective iris, but he was there all the same. Tall, blonde, pale. Just as Carter had described the Zertan people. He held out his hands, showing empty palms.

"I mean no harm," he shouted, his heart pounding, gripped by fear.

"Marlag?" Carter's voice came from behind Landry. He turned quickly.

"You know this man?"

"Yes sir, he was one of the first people we met on Zertan."

"How did he get through iris?"

Carter shrugged. "I assume with technology similar to the device the Tollan used." It seemed reasonable. By the time Landry looked back into the gate room, Marlag was freely surrendering and being restrained in flexicuffs.

"I suggest we go and talk to our friend," Landry said as Marlag was led from the gate room.

.

* * *

"Colonel Mitchell?"

Mitchell had his back to the new visitor but he couldn't mistake the voice. He rolled his eyes.

"Cam?"

"Vala," he replied wearily through clenched teeth.

"Daniel sent me. He said to tell you that he's in the mess and that you should join him before you pass out." She smiled broadly.

"I ate earlier with Sam," he grumbled.

"Not what Sam said," Vala muttered. She grabbed another chair and placed it beside Mitchell. "At least you've changed your clothes," she said, looking him up and down with a critical eye. "And you smell better."

Mitchell took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "Did you want something, Vala?" he asked, making no effort to disguise his irritation.

"I brought you some coffee." She held out a mug, the contents still steaming. He eyed her suspiciously.

"You drink it first," he said.

"I'm offended! Do you actually think I'd poison you?"

"No. I actually think you'd drug me though."

Vala took a large gulp and then held it out to him again. This time he took it, sipping cautiously at first before taking a much larger mouthful then setting it down on the cabinet beside the bed.

"If you're worried that she'll be on her own when she wakes up…" Vala began.

"I'm not," Mitchell snapped. "Because she won't be."

"Hmm."

"What are you doing here, Vala?" he growled at her.

"Have you heard that we have a new visitor?"

"No," he replied, flatly.

"Marlag...from Zertan. He got through the iris." She saw Mitchell's brow furrow just briefly before apparently deciding he wasn't that interested and returning his attention to Amelia.

Vala grabbed his hand and placed it on top of Amelia's, holding it in place.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked in an angry whisper.

"Colonel Mitchell, you and Doctor Hendrik appear to be the only two people, probably on the entire base, who are able to ignore what's going on between you. I'm not going to pretend I understand why. That's your business, but I can see what's happening now. You haven't left this seat for more than a few hours in the last five days. So, the way I see it is, if you're going to insist on staying, at least give her the comfort of knowing that you're here for her,"

He didn't reply. She quickly withdrew her hand and her presence. She watched him for a moment from the door as he slowly curled his fingers around Amelia's hand. Vala smiled and congratulated herself on a job well done. It had provided the perfect distraction. In a few minutes, Mitchell would be sleeping like a baby.

.

* * *

Marlag sat bolt upright in the chair, his palms flat on the top of the metal table which separated General Landry and Colonel Carter from their visitor. He had been searched and the device that had been strapped to his wrist had been removed. He had not objected. He had been entirely co-operative.

Landry placed the device on the table. Marlag didn't move.

"Before we begin, I feel I must apologise for the death of your friend. I am responsible for her death. Had I known then what I subsequently came to know, I would never have fired my weapon."

Landry took a deep breath. "You mean Doctor Hendrik?"

Marlag nodded.

"She's not dead, although how long that'll remain the case I can't say. She's very sick."

"I may be able to make amends. The device before you has many uses."

"Right now, I'm concerned about the fact it let you walk right through the iris. I'm also concerned that you were aware that there was an iris and that you'd need to use it. The last time we saw technology like this was in the hands of the Tollan," Landry said. Marlag said nothing."Well?"

"Forgive me. I was not aware that it was a question. I do not understand what you are asking me," Marlag replied.

"I'm asking where you came by it and how the hell you knew you'd need it?"

Marlag looked down at the table top. "The people who came to us first...They were interrogated. The information was extracted from their minds. And I did not 'come by' the device, General Landry. It is called a lykill. My people invented it. It is based on similar technology to that used by the Tollan."

"You know the Tollan?"

"We were allies once…a long time ago."

"And they shared technology with you?"

"We were more advanced than they. There was little that they could offer is. We had never had need of this device before but as it was offered in trade, we accepted and developed it. There are very few of them though. We had no need of them. I was not even sure…I was not sure it would work."

Carter frowned. "But you stepped into the Stargate anyway? Knowing that you could be killed?"

"I felt it was my duty. My people plan to attack your world. I believed, at first that the Commander was mad with grief over the loss of his son, but it is more than that. He is allying himself with an evil darker than anything imaginable. An evil that desolated our people once before. He believes his actions will protect what remains of the Zertan people, but he cannot succeed."

"Why Earth?"

"Because it is what the Goa'uld want. We are wasting time though."

"What are you talking about?"

"Your friend. The female who was injured. I believe, with the help of the lykill I can aid her."

"You mean that thing could cure her?" Carter exclaimed.

"It confident it can help, and then we must work to make the barrier you have impervious to the technology. The weapon takes time to construct. We have not used it in many generations, but they will send it and it will penetrate the barrier as it is now. You are vulnerable, General Landry, and your people will be eliminated."

.

* * *

Amelia opened her eyes slowly, squinting at the brightness of the light that seemed to be targeting her. She turned her head away from it and saw Vala sat in a chair beside the bed.

"Welcome back," she smiled.

Amelia glanced around the bed, her eyes widening in terror at the sight of Marlag stood beside the bed, smiling down at her. Amelia opened her mouth to speak but could scarcely make a sound.

"Don't worry. Doctor Kaufmann only removed the ventilator a couple of hours ago."

"What...is...he..." she croaked.

"Marlag is the reason you're awake. Some Zertan technology. We were starting to worry you weren't going to pull through."

"I don't understand," she whispered.

"I will leave you to rest. I hope that we will have the opportunity to talk when you are feeling better." Marlag smiled briefly and headed out of the room.

"I'll get you some water," Vala said. She looked over at the nurse who had already started pouring.

"Wait!" Amelia croaked, reaching out and taking Vala's arm. "The team…are they…"

"Everyone came back safely," Vala reassured her, pressing the control and raising the head of the bed. She handed the plastic cup of water to Amelia who sipped and coughed. Pain tore through her and she gasped.

"Let's up the morphine for now," the nurse said, picking up a syringe and drawing up the clear liquid from the little brown bottle. "I'll set up a PCA. That way you can control your own pain relief as you need it." She smiled and placed the bottle down. "It will make you a little sleepy." She locked the syringe into the cannula in Amelia's hand and slowly pushed the fluid in.

"Mitchell?" Amelia asked, returning her attention to Vala. "I saw…he was shot but…I can't remember…"

"Don't worry. He's fine. Exhausted, probably dehydrated but that's his own fault," she shrugged.

Amelia frowned and shook her head. As the morphine kicked in she could feel her body relaxing but she was losing focus, feeling sleepy.

"I don't understand," she whispered.

"He wouldn't leave your bedside. He would have been here for you, but Doctor Kaufmann had to ban him from the room and I slipped a little…something…into his coffee. He's fast asleep. I had to lug him all the way back to his room in a wheelchair and I shouldn't imagine he'll be exactly thrilled when he realises that I'm the one who took off his clothes and put him to bed…" she mused.

Amelia smiled and then was suddenly taken by a fit of coughing.

"Good to see you awake, Doctor Hendrik. You gave me quite a scare there," Doctor Kaufmann smiled at her from the end of the bed. He picked up her chart and started writing. "Good. You've had morphine. Is it helping with the pain?"

Amelia nodded, her eyelids feeling heavier and heavier. "So tired," she whispered.

"Sleep will do you good. Help your recovery," he replied.

"My chest hurts," she complained.

"I'm not surprised. You've been defibbed, you've had a chest tube in, you've been on a ventilator...oh, and you were shot, so yes, I imagine it is a little tender." Kaufmann chuckled. "When they say doctor's make the worst patients, they aren't kidding are they?"

Amelia smiled and lay her head back on the pillow. Kaufmann put a grey bulbous handle with a black button on the top into Amelia's hand.

"When it wears off, push this and it'll release…sorry…you already know all this. Shout if you need anything."

"Thanks," Amelia replied and closed her eyes.

Vala watched her for a moment as her breathing quickly became that gentle rhythmic breathing of a person asleep. She tiptoed over to the nurse's desk where Kaufmann was writing up notes on a computer.

"Someone needs to tell Mitchell," she whispered to him.

"You want to draw straws?" he replied, pessimistically. "I don't think either of us is at the top of his Christmas card list right now."

"Well, I do think that the armed guard on the door was a bit much," Vala said accusatorially.

"Perhaps, but I'm not the one who drugged him," Kaufmann retorted with a smug smile.

They stared at one another. "Daniel," they whispered in unison.

"I'll persuade him," Vala grinned.

.

* * *

Alarms rang out through the corridors of the SGC. Red lights flashed and the sound of Walter Harriman's voice echoed as he announced another unscheduled off-world activation. Mitchell rolled over on his bed as the sound penetrated his sleep, cutting into the distressing nightmares that were plaguing him. His eyes snapped open and he gazed around the room.

The last thing he remembered was Vala bringing him coffee in the ICU. He closed his eyes, trying to recall what happened after that but there was nothing. He dragged his aching body upright, wincing as the wound in his bicep pulled. He swung his legs around to meet with the floor but as he stood his head spun and a wave of nausea washed over him. He dropped back onto the bed, taking a deep breath, lowering his head into his hands.

"What the hell…" he muttered to himself.

A determined knocking at his door added to the cacophony and he wanted to scream. He put his hands over his ears, trying to block out the sound but it was persistent.

"What?" he yelled finally. There was a mumbled response from the other side that he just barely recognised as Jackson. "It's open."

The handled rattled. "Err…it's not!" Jackson shouted back.

"Damn it!" Mitchell growled, standing slowly and staggering to the door. He flicked his card over the lock mechanism and returned to the bed.

Jackson pushed open the door and looked at Mitchell as he dropped on the edge of the bed and flopped his body backwards, lying down again.

"You look like hell," Jackson said.

"Thanks," Mitchell replied.

"You're welcome. Have you been drinking?"

"Are you serious?" Michell cried, incredulous.

"You look hung over," Jackson shrugged, flicking the light on.

"I think I've been drugged and I think your _girlfriend_ did it," Mitchell spat, his hands over his eyes, protecting them from the glare of the ceiling light.

"I'm assuming you mean Vala?" Jackson said, irritably.

Mitchell's only answer was a groan as he tried to sit up again. "What's going on?" he asked.

"I don't know. SG1 have been stood down for now," Jackson said, stuffing his hands in his pockets and pacing the room. "Can't be much though. Sirens have stopped."

"So, you're bugging me why, exactly?" The impatience in Mitchell's voice was becoming more and more evident. Jackson was nervous. The mood that Mitchell was in made him really uncertain of the reaction his news would provoke, and he started to wonder why he'd agreed to Vala's request. He actually started to wonder just how she had persuaded him but sometimes it was best not to spend too much time thinking about Vala and her methods.

Out with it, like ripping off a plaster, he decided.

"Amelia's awake," he said in a rush.

It took Mitchell's drug fuddled brain a few seconds to process the information. When he did, it was as though the fog had lifted and he lunged for the door with almost blurring speed.

"Wait," Jackson cried out.

"For what?" Mitchell replied, grabbing the door handle.

"Well, clothes for a start." Jackson pointed to the black boxers Mitchell was wearing. Even through his drug-induced haze, he realised that there was only one person who could have stripped him down and he rolled his eyes. He'd not hear that last of this.

Mitchell grabbed a pair of grey jog pants and a white t-shirt, pulling them on as he hopped around the room looking for his trainers.

.

* * *

Major Davis entered Markus Kaufmann's office, a bouquet of flowers in his arm. Kaufmann looked up and smiled.

"You really shouldn't have. It isn't even my birthday," he teased.

Davis forced a laugh, but he wasn't in the mood for joking around. "They're for Amelia…Doctor Hendrik. Would you pass them on to her?"

Kaufmann frowned. "Why can't you do that yourself? I'm sure she'd be pleased to see you in view of…" He quickly stopped himself.

"I don't think…" Davis began, not quite knowing how to articulate his disappointment without sounding like a love-sick teenager.

"Mitchell?" Kaufmann asked, a trace of sadness in his voice. Davis shrugged and smiled.

"Don't want to be stepping on his toes."

"I think you should talk to her," Kaufmann said. "I think she needs to…actually…wants to explain."

"It's Mitchell. What's to explain? Hero. Fighter pilot. Hell, I'd date him myself," Davis laughed.

"Talk to her," Kaufmann said, his tone low and serious. Davis thought for a moment then nodded. "She's out of ICU. She's the only patient in the medical unit though. I'll make sure you have privacy."

.

Davis could see Amelia from the doorway. Her eyes were closed, hair spread out across the pillow. The paleness of her face highlighted the dark smudges beneath her eyes. The woman he had come to know as fiery and determined looked so fragile.

She heard his footfall. During her many years of training, she had discovered a talent for recognising a person from the sound of their walk. It had taught her when to hide, saved her life on several occasions. So, she immediately knew who her new visitor was and she felt her stomach lurch as she opened her eyes. Davis smiled at her but the warmth she had become accustomed to wasn't there.

"I hear you got yourself shot?" he asked casually.

She nodded. "Yeah, I think it might have been something I said," she chuckled.

"Rumour has it that it was more like someone you stabbed."

"Word travels fast," Amelia replied, the memory still torturing her. "Are they for me?" she asked, pointing to the flowers Davis still had clutched in his arm.

"Oh, yeah. I'll get the nurse to put them in some water. I thought they'd brighten the place up a bit. I came by a couple of times but…" He stopped and turned away, looking for a nurse.

"But Mitchell was here," Amelia finished for him.

He placed the flowers on the table and perched on the edge of the bed.

"It's okay," he said.

Amelia slipped her fingers around his and shook her head. "It isn't okay, and you're owed an explanation."

"You don't owe me anything. You gave me no reason to think that we were more than…well…You know what I'm trying to say."

"The thing is…Mitchell and I…We're old friends."

"A bit more than that. Look, it's okay, Amelia. I suspected something was going on. I wasn't sure what…"

"Nor am I."

They sat in silence for a moment whilst the nurse placed the jug of water on the table beside the bed and Davis placed the flowers into it.

"You're still bringing me flowers even though you know I killed a man in cold blood?"

Davis didn't answer.

"Even though you read the report that I'm supposed to submit?"

Now she had his attention. "How did you know? I didn't say..."

"Cameras. Everywhere. Technology's a wonderful thing. And so tiny these days."

"If you hadn't wanted it found, you should have hidden it somewhere more secure."

Amelia shook her head. "It was exactly where I wanted it."

He stared at her for a second, a frown briefly clouding his face. "You knew I was going to look?"

"Yes. I was counting on it."

"You wanted me to find it?"

"Yes."

"You expected me to go straight to Landry with it."

"I did. I was surprised when you came to me first. It threw me a curveball. I didn't know...I want out of this and I didn't know how else to do it. I can't just quit. God, I wish I could but...I know that I'm going to spend the rest of my life looking at the same four walls but at least I won't be mixed up in this...this shit anymore."

"Landry's kept all of this from the Pentagon. They don't know about the guy you killed. I was given orders to keep my mouth shut."

"Why? Why would he do that?"

"I don't know."

"Are we okay?" Amelia asked, a lump in her throat.

"If you're asking me if I'm going to make sure your caffeine levels don't fall dangerously low and if I'll keep you company when you're stuck here and they're all off shooting up some strange planet light years away then…yeah, we're okay."

"That wasn't what I was asking...but I'll take it."

"It's complicated Amelia. I want it to be more. It probably already is but I don't know what to make of this and I don't think I have all the story...do I?"

She shook her head, grabbing his hand. "I want to tell you everything. Please, give me the chance. I still owe you dinner, right? Thanks to Marlag I'm healing faster than they expected. Kaufmann said I could probably go home tomorrow. We'll get some food, have a drink...please?"

He reached over, hesitating for a second. "Okay," he said before kissing her forehead. "Get some rest," he smiled.

She watched him cross the infirmary, passing Mitchell just inside the doorway on the way out. Mitchell hesitated for a moment. He glanced over towards her and she smiled. Mitchell stuffed his hands in his pockets, ran his tongue around his teeth then shook his head and walked back out of the room.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

.

 _"He tried to wait for you, Doctor Hendrik. He's unconscious I'm afraid. You were all he talked about," the nurse said as if that could be of any comfort._

 _She couldn't think of anything to say, so just nodded._

 _"We're making him as comfortable as possible," the nurse continued._

 _Medical jargon for 'he's going to die and there's nothing we can do about, she thought. She'd given the same line so many times herself._

 _She was so angry. Angry_ _at her mother for waiting two weeks before telling her that her father had suffered a devastating stroke. Angry at herself for immersing herself in her career and not calling him every day like she used to. Angry at the nurse who was tiptoeing around her as if she was a child. Most of all she was angry at the fact that there was nothing she could do to save her father, nothing that could give her just a little more time with him._

 _She stood at the end of the bed, looking at the frail, elderly man lying beneath the crisp white sheet. His chest was rising and falling in rhythm with the medical apparatus that were breathing for him. She hardly recognised him. He had always seemed such a tall, strong man. He had risen to the rank of Brigadier General before retiring. He was meant to be enjoying his 'twilight years' as he'd called them, aboard the small yacht he'd named after his only child. 'The Amelia' had not had many outings and he'd never managed to take his daughter deep sea fishing as he'd promised. As the display on the monitor turned to a flat green line, she realised that he never would._

 _She sat with her father's body for almost an hour, holding his hand and talking softly to him until the nurse persuaded her that she needed to leave him. He took her to the canteen, bought her a cup of tea loaded with sugar and left her in her grief. She stared into the paper cup as her tea grew cold. She was suddenly cast into shadow and she looked up to see the tall, well-built frame of Joe Rosado standing over her._

 _"Want some company?" he asked. She didn't speak but her look must have answered his question and he sat regardless. She thought he was handsome, in a rugged kind of way. His jeans were grey and well-worn. The sleeves of his dark shirt were rolled to the elbows revealing strong muscular arms and a small tattoo, a pattern of some kind, on the inside of his wrist. His face was tanned, and his stubble was a couple of weeks old but well maintained. He didn't speak, to begin with. Just watched her as tears rolled down her cheeks._

 _"Can I get you something?" he asked at last, his dark eyes warm and smiling. She shook her head._

 _"D'ya wanna talk about it?" His southern drawl was gentle and kind and for some reason she found herself relating the whole story to the stranger as she turned the paper cup around and around in her hand. He reached out, taking her hand in his to stop her._

 _"Look, this meeting…it was no accident. I have something you need to see," he said to her. "A file…about your father. His government file from the project he's been working on. My brother was on the same project. He died…" Joe stopped mid-sentence and shook his head. "Shit darlin', you don't need to hear this right now. Sorry," He pushed his chair back from the table. "You'll be thinkin' I'm a few pickles shy of a barrel."_

 _"Wait, please," she whispered as she stared at the computer disk he'd left on the table. "I need to know. I want to know…and I'm a doctor. I'm not allowed to assume you're crazy."_

 _He took her hand in his and smiled. "Then let's go get you a real drink. You might need it."_

 _._

Amelia's eyes snapped open. She sat bolt upright in bed, her body drenched in sweat and her limbs shaking. The same dream again. The memory of the start of her trouble was like a video on a loop, playing over and over in her dreams. She wished with all her heart that she had never met Joe Rosado, never accepted the drink. She had been weak and vulnerable. Joe had provided a shoulder to cry on and the file he had given to her had provided a direction for her grief, turning it into an anger and hatred that had quickly turned her heart cold. She had married Joe just six months later. Not because she had loved him. She had seen that as an emotion long since buried and certainly no longer required. What they had was purely physical and she knew Joe was her ticket to vengeance. There had been no big fancy wedding. That was the last thing she would have wanted anyway. She had no family left. Her mother certainly didn't count. Her introduction to the shadowy world in which her new husband worked had been gentle at first. Colonel Maybourne had used the loss of her father to his advantage but she had pushed and Maybourne had embraced her enthusiasm and, perhaps more so her apparent lack of conscience when it came to eliminating the obstacles in the way of the NID and their ambitions. She had scarcely noticed the change in herself. Not until the first time she had pointed the Browning HP at another human being and pulled the trigger without any hesitation and, worse still, with barely a flicker of remorse. By then it was too late. Now, she could hardly live with the memory of the things that she had done. She couldn't put her finger on what had changed, or when, but she knew that she needed to bring an end to it all. And that meant taking Adam Hines down with her. Tears welled in her eyes. She wiped them quickly away.

.

* * *

Marlag sat in the laboratory with Samantha Carter. Papers and schematics spread were spread out all over every available surface. Sam had her head in her hands, occasionally dozing and jolting awake again. Marlag was indefatigable, still going strong after almost forty-eight hours without proper sleep. She moved around quietly, trying not to wake his new colleague. The technology wasn't as advanced as he had hoped, and he was not sure that he would be able to prevent the delivery of the nerve agent to the SGC. His focus had shifted slightly now, wondering if there was a way to neutralise it the second it came through. He still had an ace up his sleeve though. One he prayed he would not need to use.

Sam suddenly looked up and it took her a couple of seconds to get her bearings. "I'm so sorry. I must have…"

"Do not worry, Samantha. You need sleep. I do not."

She rubbed her face with her hand and looked down at his work. "Any progress?"

"I am afraid not."

She frowned as she looked at the calculations. "Chemicals?"

"It is the formula of the neurotoxin that is in the weapon my people plan to send through the gate. Almost. There is something that I am missing. Something...extra that..." He slammed his hand down on to the table. "I should be able to find it. We need to perfect this and quickly. You should sleep, Colonel Carter. Adapting the iris may still be the best way to protect yourselves and I will need your expertise for that."

"Perhaps Doctor Hendrik could help us with an antidote. She's a neurologist. She must understand how these things work, right?"

Marlag hesitated for a moment.

"You do want to help us?"

"I risked my life to come here!" Marlag replied, angrily.

"Of course. I'm sorry," Sam replied.

"No, I must apologise. Perhaps I am a little tired. I will speak to Doctor Hendrik. I would be glad of any help she can offer."

"Probably a little late to be knocking on her door but first thing in the morning? In the meantime, we should both get some rest."

.

* * *

Amelia slipped from her bed and made her way to the elevator, travelling three floors up to level twenty-one and the mess. She needed coffee. It was two o'clock in the morning, so she wasn't surprised to find the room was empty and in darkness. She didn't care. She crossed the room, guided by the red light on the machine. At least that was still working, and the coffee was hot. She took a seat at the table closest and sipped from the steaming mug.

"Hello again, Doctor Hendrik." The voice startled her. Marlag moved into her line of vision.

"Marlag. What are you doing here?"

"I was looking for food...but..."

"But there's nothing that looks even slightly appetising?"

Marlag smiled and nodded. "May I ask you a question, Doctor Hendrik?"

Amelia took a deep breath. "You want to know why I killed the medic?"

"I do."

"It's complicated."

"You are betraying your friends and working for the Goa'uld."

"What the hell..? I killed him because he told me that your people were planning to make huge amounts of this neurotoxin and that he was the only person who knew how to create it. I had to make sure that it never saw the light of day. He was very proud of it. He told me every nasty thing it was capable of. The only way of stopping it was to stop him."

"You brought a sample back here though?"

"Yes. He told me there was a large batch being prepared but that he was able to supply the sample so that we could test it and see the results for ourselves."

"Then you are still in danger. The commander plans to send a biological weapon through the gate in retaliation."

"Using the drug he gave to me?

Marlag nodded. "I am trying to find a way to neutralise it before it..."

Amelia was smiling. Marlag stopped speaking and frowned.

"I'm sorry. It's just that...he's going to be very disappointed. I destroyed what remained and replaced it with water and potassium chromate. It's pretty much the same colour but certainly isn't going to make human beings subservient," she said.

Marlag stared at her, dumbfounded for a moment. "Are you sure? Everything?"

"He believed I was there to check the production. He was very keen to show off what he had achieved. I can assure you, I destroyed everything."

Marlag sighed. "I am pleased," he said.

"You don't look it."

"I suppose I am only just realising that I will not see my family again."

Amelia nodded slowly. "I guess not. Do you have children?"

"Yes, I was blessed."

"Is there anything that I can do? I owe you my life, after all."

Marlag thought for a moment and then nodded. "A weapon."

"I'm really not sure..."

"Send it through the gate. An explosion big enough to destroy the gate on the other side," Marlag replied.

"But we could try to reach your family. Bring them here where they'll be safe," Amelia objected.

Marlag shook his head. "My family will have been imprisoned and will be killed because I am a traitor."

"Oh god, I don't...I don't even know what to say to you. We can never repay what you've done for us. The sacrifice..."

"My wife would want it to be this way. She would not like what my people were planning or what that chemical could do. She will not believe that I betrayed our people unless it was for a very good reason." He was silent for a moment. "We tried to escape once before. We were caught but we were lucky enough to be caught by the brother of my wife. The incident was not reported."

"Forgive me but you seemed to be very committed to your work. Why did you want to leave? It seemed almost perfect."

"I believe the expression humans would use is 'I had to play the game'," he replied.

"You've picked up a lot in your time here."

"Television," he smiled, but it quickly slipped from his lips. "My home...is far from perfect. On the surface everything is serene, and the people are happy. The less they know, the happier they are. But the villagers...what my people did in the name of science and advancement...It was not a plague, or if it was, its name was Zertan. Those people...are all Zertanians. They committed minor crimes. The village was a prison camp. The Commander wanted to test the chemical, to examine its long-term effects so he ordered the chemical to be introduced to the water supply. It didn't take very long to see the results. Some died. Others became very sick and died after weeks of agony. The minds of those who survived were damaged beyond repair."

"That's why there were cameras around the village? They were being monitored."

Marlag nodded. "One of our medics went into the village in the first days of the experiment and became infected. The Commander was concerned that it had mutated and become contagious. He sent other men out to install the cameras and ordered that no Zertanian could leave the protected environment inside the dome. Finally, it was determined that he had come into contact with the water from the village. The fool had eaten food prepared by one of the villagers. She was his sister."

"And your people just allowed it to happen?"

"Some of us objected but it soon became clear that those who spoke out found themselves part of the experiment. I had to think of my family."

"So, why come here now?"

"It has gone too far. It was bad enough that we were killing our own people but to spread out among the stars and poison other races...other worlds...it is unconscionable. Do you still have the sample that was given to you?"

"Yes."

"Then I can help you to create an antidote and I can show you what the chemical is truly capable of. The reason it was first conceived. It can change the future of medicine on your planet. And it can protect you from the System Lords."

"How? And why? I thought they were dead or in hiding."

"The chemical is deadly to the Goa'uld. That is why they engage people like you to collect it for them."

"That's the second time you've suggested I'm working for the Goa'uld!" she snapped.

Marlag paused before answering. "You are, although now that we have spoken, I believe you did not know."

.

* * *

Colonel Munroe sat in the small motel room near the airport. His wife was in the shower and his youngest daughter was asleep in his arms. His eldest, Marianne, lay on her front watching cartoons on the ancient television set. For the fifth time that evening he checked the leather wallet that contained their passports and flight tickets. The passports were forgeries. He'd told his wife that it was witness protection. She'd accepted what he'd told her. She'd never been that bright, but he loved her so much and couldn't believe he'd brought this on them all. Ava was only two years old so wasn't a problem. Marianne five years older. He'd told her it was a game and that if anyone asked she must tell them her name was Margaret Aikens. He'd promised her a new bicycle if she did as he asked, and she'd quickly agreed. He didn't know where the money was coming from though. They'd left with little more than the clothes they were stood up in. If they survived this, he was a deserter and the Airforce would come after him. Court-martial and disgrace would follow. So, he had to hope that he didn't get caught. He glanced at his watch. They'd need to leave in an hour. His stomach was doing somersaults, but he had to keep it together for the sake of his family. He gently lay Ava onto the too-bright floral bedspread and started to gather their few belongings together, stuffing them into an old brown holdall. His wife emerged from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her body. She was petite with raven black hair and perfect olive skin. Their eldest daughter was the image of her and as he looked at them he felt the weight of his bad decisions more heavily than ever.

"I need to make a phone call, honey. I'll be just outside," he said. His wife didn't reply.

Munroe made his way down to the rental car that sat just below their room in the parking lot. He approached cautiously as he withdrew the burner phone he'd bought that afternoon for cash. He had the phone number he needed memorised. That was the one thing he always had going for him. An almost photographic memory. That was the only reason he'd asked the bimbo secretary for a cup of water outside Adam Hines office. A quick glance through the call sheet that she'd foolishly left on her desk. The call was answered on the second ring but the person on the other end didn't speak.

"Feeling better?" he asked.

"Munroe?" came the answer.

"Get the hell out, Hendrik. Get as far away as you can before it's too late," he said in a harsh whisper.

"What are you talking about Munroe?"

"The Goa'uld. That's who you're working for. You want proof? Just visit your friend Adam."

"No!" Amelia replied. Her mouth had gone dry and her heart was racing. She had come to the conclusion that she couldn't carry on the way she was, perhaps even that Adam was in deeper than she'd imagined but she couldn't believe that the Goa'uld were in control. "Where are you?"

Munroe gave a humourless chuckle. "Nothing doin'," he replied.

"I need to talk to you. Perhaps Adam doesn't know we've been infiltrated either."

"Shit, honey. For an intelligent woman, you can be really stupid. Adam Hines _IS_ a Goa'uld!"

"That's not...no...he can't..." she stammered.

"I know he's an old friend, Hendrik, but you have to believe me and you have to run. I'm leaving. By the time you get off the base, I'll be gone. I'm taking my family somewhere safe and don't try tracing this call. I'm not stupid enough to use a registered phone."

"I didn't imagine you were, but...you can't run from them. We have to put a stop to it. I need you to help me. Please, Munroe."

The line was silent for a moment. Munroe looked up at the door of his motel room. Madeline was leaning over the balustrade and waved. "No. I'm sorry. I have my family to think about. Good luck, Hendrik."

The loud crack came out of nowhere. Madeline screamed. Munroe spun on the spot as the bullet passed from the back of his shoulder, erupting through the front with a fine spray of blood. A second crack echoed through the parking lot. Munroe was dead before his body hit the ground.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

.

Amelia pulled into the parking lot outside Target at the shopping mall. It was deserted aside from her vehicle and a dark SUV parked at the far side. She pulled her Glock from the glovebox and slipped it into the concealed holster at her waist. She turned the engine off and sat back in the seat, watching. After a long few minutes, a figure emerged from the SUV and crossed the parking lot towards her. Adam Hines. She felt her heart rate increase as fear gripped her. She quickly checked her eyes. They were still red and slightly puffy. She had sobbed for half an hour after her phone call with Munroe had ended so abruptly and so violently. She could still hear the screams of a little girl in the background as the phone had clattered to the floor. She shuddered. Adam was almost at her driver's door before she got out of her vehicle.

"Amelia? This was unexpected. You have something for me?"

"Did you have Munroe killed?"

Hines laughed. "Straight to the point as always."

"Just answer the damn question."

Hines lit a cigarette and put it to his lips, drawing the smoke into his mouth but not, Amelia noticed, into his lungs. "Why do you care?"

"He was a good man."

Hines chuckled and shook his head. "He was willing to trade your life for his."

Amelia looked at him blankly for a moment then shook her head. "Even so..." She was reluctant to ask the next question, but she needed to know. "What about his wife and his kids?"

"They're safe."

"What does that mean?" She was still watching the cigarette. It glowed and burned but he never raised it to his lips again. He just dropped it on the asphalt and put it out with his foot.

"They are not your concern. Now, as much as you enjoy my company I'm sure you didn't call me to a parking lot in the early hours of the morning for a general gossip. At least I hope not." He held out his hand. Amelia put her hand in her pocket and pulled out a small metal box. "This is the serum?"

She stared at the box, hesitating for just a second too long but not for the reason Hines immediately assumed.

"I hope that you're not thinking of holding out on me, Hendrik," he snarled.

She shook her head.

"You could have saved thousands of lives today, Amelia," he said gently, taking the box from her. He opened it and smiled as he looked at the golden liquid inside. Amelia flinched as he snapped the box closed again.

"I've seen what it's capable of. With some changes, we could eradicate birth defects. It would have to be adapted for the DNA of each patient, but it could be a wonder drug," she explained as enthusiastically as she could manage through the lie.

"I know what it is capable of, Hendrik. Why do you think I was so keen for us to get our hands on it?"

"I think that I should leave the SGC."

Adam's gaze snapped back to her. "Why? Have you been compromised?"

"I don't think I'm entirely trusted. They have someone on my tail. I managed to lose them this time, but the mission is too important…"

"I'm glad you see things my way. There are those who have called your loyalty into question," Adam said. "But I know that you will give me your undying loyalty and your complete co-operation, Amelia." He reached out and stroked her face. A memory jolted deep in her mind. His words and his touch...and then it hit her. She struggled to maintain a neutral expression as the full weight of her realisation settled on her.

"We've been working on this for some time. This will help you bring things to a conclusion." He handed her an SD card. "The instructions are on this. It's encrypted for security. You already know the key."

"What does this do?" she asked.

"It makes sure that the next time SG1 go through that gate they don't make it to their destination. It will close the wormhole one and a half seconds after the last person steps into the event horizon. A spectacular that will ensure we get what we want."

"They'll be trapped, die!"

"And the gate will be declared unsafe. The program will be closed down. We will generously offer to investigate and move the Stargate from the mountain complex…and you will be free, Hendrik. With the gate in the hands of The Trust again they'll have no need of undercover operatives. Perhaps you can even pursue that Colonel you seem so enamoured with."

Amelia paused. "Will they agree to destroy the forged evidence against Mitchell?"

"They'll have no reason to keep it. I'd like you to continue your work with us though. You could still be very useful. Think about it." He didn't say anything more. Amelia got back into her car and watched him return to his vehicle. The SUV pulled away and vanished out of view. She pulled out her phone, tapped in a memorised number and left a message. She hung up and a deep sob took her next breath as she crumpled over the steering wheel, broken and afraid.

.

* * *

Despite the hour and the bitter chill in the air, Mitchell found Amelia sat on the decking behind the cabin. She was wearing close fitting pale blue jeans and an oversized sweatshirt. Probably one of Adam's, he thought.

"I got your message," he said.

Startled, she jumped to her feet. "I wasn't sure you'd come," she said.

"I'm still not sure why I'm here."

"I'll get you a coffee." She disappeared inside the house, returning in minutes with a steaming mug. He took it and sniffed before taking a mouthful. He grimaced. It was bitter. "It's a dark roast Robusta. You'll get used to it," she smiled and returned to her seat.

Mitchell didn't answer. Just took another mouthful, doubting very much that you could get used to a flavour like that, but he drank it anyway. He had a feeling he was going to need it.

"Your note said it was important." His voice was glacial. Amelia knew why, and she didn't blame him.

"I'm sorry," she began.

"For which part?" Mitchell bit back. She sighed and looked away. He was being pissy and he knew it. "You mean about you and Davis?"

She nodded.

"Why couldn't you just tell me?"

"Because I didn't know what to tell you. What we had…you and I...it was a long time ago. Seeing you again just confused things. I didn't know how to feel. I'd clung on to the memory of our time together and I wanted so much for things to be the same again…but the reality was so different."

"Different isn't always a bad thing," he replied, sitting beside her.

She wasn't sure she agreed. They sat in silence for a few long seconds.

"They told me you sat with me the whole time I was in the infirmary."

Mitchell shrugged. "I didn't want you to be alone."

"You thought I was going to die?"

"Live or die...I swore I'd stay there…but Vala slipped something into my coffee. Should have known better than to drink it," he smiled. "I'm sorry I wasn't there when you woke up."

"When you walked away...When Paul came to visit…I thought…The look in your eyes..." Her voice shook as she spoke, and Cam automatically slipped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her against him and running his fingers gently up and down her arm, kissed the top of her head. She felt tears prick her eyes, but she fought them back, pulling herself upright again.

"I'm sorry. This isn't why I asked you here," she said as she pulled his arm from her shoulder. "We need to talk, Cam. I need to explain what happened."

Mitchell frowned and placed his mug on the floor, twisting in his seat to face her.

"You were right about Joe. When we spoke, and you told me you thought he'd been murdered. You were right," she said with a sigh.

"Do we really have to talk about him?" Mitchell asked.

"I have to tell you everything. Get this all off my chest and out in the open." She jumped to her feet and out of the way of temptation. "It's bad, Cam. You need to understand right from the start that I never intended to hurt you. I loved you…"

"Millie…" Mitchell went to stand but she held out her hand to stop him.

"Joe was with the NID. He was a rogue agent under Maybourne. He went underground when the NID was purged. He was there when SG1 found the Stargate they'd been using in Utah. He escaped though. You know there were cells still working all over the country, in secret. Even the NID couldn't keep tabs on them in the end. When the Trust took over, he signed up. Most of the rogue agents did."

"So, you knew all along? Even before you married him?" He looked at coffee, thinking he might need something a little stronger to get him through this conversation but took another mouthful.

"Yes," she replied. She looked him directly in the eyes and took a deep breath. "Joe was the one who recruited me."

"Are you serious?" Mitchell exclaimed. He stood and took a step towards her. He felt a little light-headed and regretted the coffee on an empty stomach, but he'd been unable to eat since he'd got her note.

"I've worked for them since my father died."

"Why?"

"Because the Stargate program killed him. I knew that he worked on some secret project for the military, but I didn't understand what. The day he died, I met Joe in the canteen and he gave me a file. It contained all the information on my father's work with the Stargate project. It also made it very clear that there had been opportunities with alien races who had technology that could have helped him. They preferred to let him die though. Worse still was my discovery that Jacob Carter had been given a second chance and yet my father, who had worked on the program and been prepared to give his life, was not afforded the same chance." The anger in her voice was a surprise, even to her.

"Millie…" Mitchell shook his head.

"I was struggling with the loss for my own personal reasons...my mother…everything. What I'd learnt from Joe just made it worse. I felt so empty. Like nothing mattered any more. Joe was so kind. I thought that I loved him, as much as I could love anyone by then. I don't think that I ever really did, though. I was just clinging on to something. All the time he was pushing, just a little. Using my father's death to make me more and more angry. Telling me that I could help stop it happening to other people. I was introduced to his friends…I don't even know what happened. It spiralled. The next thing I knew, I'd put a bullet into a man's head. They owned me…and I didn't even care. I was empty anyway. I had nothing but Joe then even that broke down. When I met you…you were a target. I was supposed to…Your headaches, coordination issues. They weren't real. You were being drugged. I was sent in to find out what I could about the F-302 Interceptor…from you…using whatever means necessary."

"You were using me?" Mitchell growled.

"Never! Not from the moment I met you. I couldn't. I always made a point of keeping people out. That way it was easy. I couldn't keep you out, though. Didn't even try." She smiled. "You know you're a good looking guy. To me you were a challenge though. From that first prickly meeting, there was something about you that got under my skin I was prepared to risk everything for you."

Mitchell put his empty mug onto the table and dragged his fingers through his hair. He leaned on the railings and stared out towards the forest, his eyes losing focus just for a second.

"God Millie! You know I should take you in," he said quietly.

"Should?" she asked.

"I have to,"

"You can't, please. Not yet. Besides, it won't matter. I gave Paul a disk a couple of hours ago. Asked him to pass it on to Landry. It's a full account of everything that I've done and everything that had happened. If I go down, they're all coming with me."

"Why are you at the SGC. I know the line about the investigation, but I doubt you were picked by coincidence."

"Infiltration. Theft. Intelligence. General Landry played right into my hands by offering me the job on a permanent basis. Now you understand why I had to turn it down. My specific mission though, was to have the Stargate program shut down. The final step was the death of an SG team on embarkation. Lost within the wormhole. A deliberate act. My instruction was that it needed something big. Something that would rock the program. SG1, specifically. I couldn't do it."

"Why are you telling me this now?"

"Because you have a right to know what happened. Because there are few depths to which they won't stoop. I'm still haunted by the expressions on the faces of General Hammond's grandchildren when they were kidnapped. I was there, in the car. I see their faces in my nightmares."

"Don't expect me to feel sorry for you." Mitchell's voice was hard, cold and it broke her heart.

"I don't. That isn't why I'm telling you," Amelia yelled back.

"I can't listen to any more of this, Amelia. I'm sorry…I have to go…" Mitchell gripped the handrail tighter as his legs began to feel like jelly. "What…the hell have you done?"

"I'm so sorry. I needed to explain but I couldn't risk you following me. I'm going after Ba'al. I'm going to finish this once and for all. I recognised the picture because I already knew him. He's alive and he's still in control."

"Ba'al was killed."

"No, he wasn't. He was vain. He cloned the body as well as the symbiote. He was an attractive man, charismatic," she said. Mitchell bristled. "You killed the ones who looked like him. The ones that you knew about, but he had a fail-safe. His survival instinct was more keenly honed than his vanity in the end. Adam Hines is Ba'al."

Mitchell's eyes widened, and his eyebrows shot up. She released his arm, but he didn't move.

"Are you sure?"

"As sure as I can be. Things he said, words he used…and the way he…" She swallowed back the nausea. "The way he touched me."

Mitchell bunched his fists. "You and…" he couldn't finish the sentence.

"I didn't know what he was. It was…just a fling. Just after I left Joe."

"I have to go," he said finally, scrunching up his face as he tried to focus.

"You can't, Cam."

"What did you put in the coffee?"

"I'm sorry. Really, I am." Amelia said softly, reaching out to him. Something glinted in her hand as the light from the cabin reflected on metal.

He backed away from her, staggering. His gaze locked hers, then he shook his head, trying to clear the fog. For a second, he thought she'd punched him in the arm then he recognised it for what it was. A syringe.

"What the hell…" He could just make out the tears running down her cheeks as blackness enveloped him.

.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

.

Major Paul Davis stood in the briefing room, staring down at the Stargate. It always seemed it was trouble that brought him to the SGC. He had thought this time was different. Stick around and help an irascible but somehow magnetic doctor work with the teams. He'd thought it was a waste of his abilities until he'd met her. It was clear then that his diplomatic skills were an absolute requirement, but he'd liked her from the start. He'd always been a 'by the book' type of guy, so his reluctance to report what he knew had surprised him, but he'd known it couldn't stay that way, even before she'd handed him the envelope.

"Major?" Sam's voice cut through the silence of the room. Davis spun around. Marlag was stood by her side.

Davis cleared his throat. "Colonel Carter," he replied.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, her brow furrowed.

"Sure, fine." He didn't sound it.

Marlag placed his hand on Davis' shoulder. "I know that you have come to see Doctor Hendrik as a cold-blooded killer but do not be angry with her. She had no choice."

"Excuse me? How can you know that?"

"I can see the conflict in your eyes."

"You're very astute," he replied.

"She was protecting your world. She did not know she was a pawn in a bigger game," Marlag replied.

"She stabbed that medic and by her own admission, she was unprovoked," Carter reminded him.

Marlag smiled. "I remember," he replied. "But he gave her no choice and her actions have probably saved millions of lives across the galaxy."

"I don't understand," Davis said.

"The medic was our top scientist. He had developed a biological weapon that was to be dispatched to planets all over the galaxy. He was the only person who knew the formula and guarded it closely. He had not had the opportunity of producing very much. Doctor Hendrik destroyed everything. If he had lived, he could quickly have got back to work. I cannot tell you that one of the others will not manage to work it out, but it will take time. The reaction of the Commander is born out of fear...but also out of personal vengeance. He was also the Commander's son."

"Jeez," Sam mumbled. "But we saw that place. You didn't look like you were set up for that level of warfare."

"You saw what we wanted you to see. However, it is not my people who are preparing to wage war, Colonel Carter. The Commander had made a deal with the Goa'uld in exchange for our continued freedom. We have dealt with the Goa'uld before and my people were enslaved, murdered. The Commander believed that this chemical was his key to our continued freedom, but he is wrong. They have the ships and the gate addresses necessary to dispatch the chemical to the furthest reaches of the galaxy. We would be spared as long as we continued to produce it and then, once they have achieved their goal, they will have no need of us. Our fate will be the same as every other planet."

"Surely they'll just backwards engineer it?" Sam replied.

They cannot. It is deadly to them. The risk is too great. They would have to engage others and why do that when they already have my people."

"Wait, that doesn't make sense. The planets they hit would be poisonous to them," Davis asked.

"The chemical is self-limiting once in contact with oxygen. Those affected remain affected as it mutates almost immediately in the body but in the atmosphere...it is toxic for no more than three days. After that, the Goa'uld would be able to walk among those affected with no danger to themselves. As long as they did not consume anything grown on the planet they would be safe. I think it unlikely that the Goa'uld would even step foot on the planets anyway. They believe themselves gods, after all."

"Then we need an antidote or a vaccine, fast," Sam said.

Marlag looked directly at Davis. "And again, you have Doctor Hendrik to thank for that."

Landry stood in the doorway of his office, leading out to the briefing room. "Colonel Carter, I suggest you continue to work on the iris. Marlag, I'll assign Major Kernick to assist you. He's one of our top microbiologists."

"Yes, sir," Carter replied.

"Major Davis, my office. Now."

.

* * *

Mitchell opened his eyes and tried to focus but the room was swimming. His head felt like it was full of cotton wool and hurt like hell. His arm jerked and wrenched painfully at his shoulder and pulled at his wound as he tried to adjust his position and his left leg, which had been tucked beneath him at an awkward angle, had gone numb. He could see through the cracks in the walls that the sun was shining but was still low in the sky and there was a chill in the air. It was early morning. She had taken him by surprise, but he had to admit that she was good. Then he'd woken up here. His arm was aching. He looked over at it. There was a small trail of dried blood and a bruise was starting to form. She'd stuck him with something and if that was the case, he couldn't even be sure what day it was. As his vision cleared he looked around the room. His right wrist was handcuffed to what appeared to be a water pipe that emerged from a hole in the wooden floor of what he could only describe as a hut. He yanked his arm, trying to break the handcuffs but it served no useful purpose. There was a bottle of water on his left-hand side, the cap loosened. He picked it up and took a mouthful, trying to flush away the feeling of old carpet from his tongue, spitting the water out. He took another long drink before re-capping the bottle. As the door creaked open, he looked over to the holster, still on his belt. He knew that it would be empty, but it was instinct.

"Cam, are you okay?"

He looked up. He recognised Amelia's voice, but she was nothing more than a silhouette in the doorway. She shifted her position and he could see that she held a Beretta M9 loosely at her side. His Beretta M9 to be exact. He wondered, for a fleeting moment, if this was how he was going to come to his end. All the off-world travelling, all the aliens he had survived, all the battles he had been involved in, Goa'uld, the Sodan warriors…even Antarctica…and now he was going to die handcuffed to a water pipe in a shed at the hands of the woman he'd wanted to marry. He could almost have laughed.

She holstered the weapon though, and slid down the wall, sitting beside him.

"What did you give me?" he asked.

She bit her lip, grimacing. "In the coffee or in the needle?" she replied apologetically, running a finger over the forming bruise.

"You know what…I don't think I wanna know. Are you going to tell me what's going on though?"

"I couldn't risk you going to Landry. The Trust protect their own, Cam. If they think you're on to them, they'll come after you," Amelia said.

"I can take care of myself," Mitchell snapped.

"Not against the Trust. They don't plan to kill you, Cam," she cried, exasperated. "They plan to destroy you."

Mitchell stared at her for a moment and then shook his head. "Nope, not following you. I guess I must still be drugged. And do you think you could take these things off?"

"No. And I mean what I say. I already told you that I was in that hospital to obtain information about the F-302. You were the perfect target, but I made the mistake of falling in love with you. Joe wasn't going to let that pass so he went straight to the head of the Trust. I honestly thought they were going to kill me, but they had a better way of keeping me in line. I was informed in no uncertain terms what would happen if I didn't remain obedient."

He could see her hands shaking as she spoke, her voice trembling as she tried to maintain control. She drew her knees up to her chest.

"I never asked you anything about the program…or even about the accident. Not once."

"I know," he said quietly, curling the fingers of his free hand around hers. "Why did you leave me, Millie. The truth, this time."

"Because I didn't want to ruin your life. You were too important to me. He would have come after you."

"Joe?"

"Ba'al."

"Is that why Davis asked me to show you the picture?"

Amelia automatically smiled, and she felt the warmth in her cheeks as she thought about him. "I'm not as good as I used to be. I slipped up. I was far too relaxed around him."

Mitchell raised his eyebrows, a knot of jealousy in his stomach, but said nothing.

They both sat, staring at the wall, silent. Mitchell glanced at Amelia from the corner of his eye. He could see that she was telling him the truth.

"What now?" he asked eventually.

"I've sent a timed email to Sam. You have to stay here just a little longer. I'm sorry." She meant it.

"And where are you going?"

"I'm going to kill Ba'al."

"You can't do that on your own," Mitchell cried as she pulled herself to her feet.

She opened a small cupboard in the corner of the room and placed a packet of potato chips, some fruit and another bottle of water beside Mitchell.

"I can do this on my own…with this." She held up a small metallic container. "It's symbiote poison. You can add theft to the list of charges if I get through this, but I'll be rid of him, once and for all. No fail-safe plan this time. Just me and Ba'al. Only one of us is leaving the room. Hopefully, it'll be me," she said with a nervous chuckle.

She knelt down and touched Mitchell's hand. "Just please tell me you don't hate me. I need to know that you forgive me…"

"Millie…"

"I understand that you're angry with me and you have every right to be but…"

"Millie…" he shouted over her. She stopped. "I am angry with you. Hell, I'm furious with you right now…but I don't…I don't hate you."

"I'm sorry. I have to do this, but if this is the last time I'm going to see you, then I need you to know…I loved you...so much. And despite what I might have said, back then…I would have given anything to have the ranch and the kids and the dogs…and you. It was never a lie. It was never an act. What I felt for you was real."

"I know that, Millie."

"That night…it was like we'd picked up where we'd left off and it was…great. Just for a few hours, it was like that last three years had never happened. But it was wrong. I'm never going to be able to have a normal life. Certainly not now. I shouldn't have led you on like that and I'm so, so sorry."

"You remember the beach house?" he smiled. He wanted to keep her there with him as long as he could. It was the only chance he could see of changing her mind and coming up with a plan that wouldn't end in her death. As long as she was talking she was staying alive.

Amelia stood and looked at the floor. Her cheeks flushed. "How could I not. It was the first time we…" She stopped, embarrassed.

"The day you left…I'd planned it all. The beach-house. Dinner…"

"Don't, please. I don't want to talk about this."

"I was gonna ask you to marry me. Even had the ring."

Tears welled in Amelia's eyes at the painful thought of the life she could have had if she hadn't allowed her bitterness and grief to consume her.

"I still do," he continued.

"Then I hope you find someone worthy of it," she smiled sadly, unable to meet his gaze.

"I have," he replied, struggling against the handcuffs. "Millie, please let me go. Let me help you."

"I'm either going to die today or I'm going to hand myself in and spend the rest of my days in prison. Either way, it doesn't really make for a great long-term relationship, does it."

"Millie, for god's sake," he yelled after her but there was no answer. "We can sort this out. I promise. We'll find a way."

She disappeared through the door. He heard the bolt slide across and the padlock snapping shut. He watched as her shadow vanished from beneath the door and he was left only with the sounds of the forest.

.

* * *

Paul Davis entered Landry's office and the General closed the door.

He didn't waste any time. "Colonel Munroe has been killed. Police were called, and they found his body in a parking lot at a motel near the airport. He was shot twice. Once through the shoulder and once through the head. His family are missing."

"Oh god!" Davis exclaimed. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Tell me everything you know."

"I'm sorry, sir, I don't…"

"I think you know exactly what I'm talking about, Major. I think you wanted to tell me before, but I wanted to see how things panned out. I stopped you going to the Pentagon but now I need to know everything. That is an order, Major."

Davis swallowed hard and pressed his lips together. He put his hand into his pocket and pulled out a computer disk, holding it out to Landry.

"Everything you need is on that disk," he said.

"Your report?"

Davis shook his head. "Amelia...Doctor Hendrik's confession." He didn't mention the brief conversation they had had when she had knocked on his door at two-thirty that morning. Nobody else needed to know about her admission that she had grown more than fond of him. Of her regret that they hadn't met under better circumstances. Her insistence that he didn't allow his work for the Air Force to consume him and that he found a woman worthy of him. The tears in her eyes as she had spoken. A verbal 'Dear John' letter.

"It's thorough. Names, dates...all the details you'll need but I doubt that there'll be any evidence. General, you have to understand that if this information surfaces, Doctor Hendrik will take the rap for all of it. She won't ever see the light of day again and the others will get away with it all. It goes pretty high, General."

Landry watched Davis becoming more agitated and concerned as he spoke.

"I asked to see her this morning. Turns out she left the base in the early hours. You wouldn't happen to know where she's gone would you?"

"No, sir."

"I know that she has somewhere off base."

"I believe so, sir."

"Major Davis. This is a matter of national security now. Your love life is of no concern to me. I am ordering you to tell me where she is." Landry's voice was raised. Davis glanced out of the window and back into the briefing room, but it was empty.

"I don't know, sir."

"I think you're allowing your personal feelings to cloud your judgement, Major," Landry replied.

"No, sir, I'm not. I'm stating fact. She didn't tell me where she was going. Only that she was going to take down the Trust and all the people who were involved. But we both know that can't happen because they're careful. And nothing will change unless we can take them all down. We'd need her for that." Davis paused. "Doctor Hendrik's no angel, sir, but she doesn't deserve to spend the rest of her life locked away when they're all still out there."

Landry said nothing, but he knew that Davis was right.

"We have options open to us, General," Davis said. "And precedent."

Landry handed the disk back to Davis and dropped into his seat. "What do you propose, Major?"

.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

.

Mitchell could hear voices in the distance. A man and a woman shouting out. He couldn't make out what they were yelling. Probably chasing down a lost dog but they could still be his ticket out of here. He started rattling the handcuff against the metal pipe and shouting out for attention, but his voice was failing him now. He didn't know how long Amelia had been gone. A couple of hours he guessed. He stopped and listened. A third voice had joined in now. Surely three people wouldn't be out searching for a dog. As he listened more closely he was almost certain he could hear his own name. He cried out again. When he listened this time, the voices were definitely closer, and they were calling for him. Sam, Teal'c and possibly Davis. Taking a deep breath, he called out as loudly as he could, banging his feet on the floor. He could see a shadow moving beneath the door.

"Colonel Mitchell, are you in there?" Davis asked through the wood.

"Where the hell have you been?" Mitchell growled in reply.

"Keep back from the door, Cam," Sam said. The next second, a gunshot rang out and the door swung open.

"What happened, sir?" Davis asked.

Mitchell couldn't help the pang of jealousy he felt or the sliver of ice in his voice when he answered. "What does it look like?"

"What were you doing here?" Sam asked.

Davis found himself waiting for the answer, holding his breath.

"She asked me to come. Told me she needed to explain…" He closed his eyes for a second.

"Are you going to be okay?" Sam said as grabbed a key from the wooden bench and unlocked the cuffs. Mitchell rubbed his wrist.

"Sure. How did you find me?"

Davis cleared his throat. "Doctor Hendrik sent an email to Colonel Carter."

"We have to go after her," Mitchell said, pulling himself to his feet with the help of the pipe he'd been handcuffed to. "She's NID...or Trust or whatever the hell they're calling themselves now."

"No, she's not," Davis snapped back.

"She told me everything, Major. I get that you think you've got something going on with her..."

"No, sir, I don't but frankly it's irrelevant." Davis interrupted, fighting to control his rising temper. "She was protecting you."

"What?"

"She tried to get out years ago. They've been using you against her all these years. Her husband was killed on Ba'al's instruction, but they'd fabricated enough evidence to implicate you. If she didn't keep in line, you'd be arrested for Joe Rosado's murder. She's been protecting you. Trying to get caught because she believed the only way left to her was to be captured and imprisoned. She left a report where I could find it knowing I'd search and hoping I'd go to Landry. She's been doing this for you." The words were bitter in his mouth. "She still is."

Mitchell looked from Davis to Sam who simply shrugged.

"Where is Doctor Hendrik now?" Teal'c asked.

"She's gone after Ba'al…Adam Hines…he is Ba'al…or at least she thinks he…Look, it's complicated but that's where she's gone," Mitchell explained.

Sam and Davis exchanged glances.

"I've not lost my mind!" Mitchell yelled.

"We'll need a helicopter, fast," Davis said. "We have to bring her in."

"This is a bit out of your area of expertise, Major. I suggest you go back to the SGC and let Landry know what's going on. We can handle the rest," Mitchell replied making no attempt to disguise his annoyance.

Sam sighed. "Can we dial back the testosterone and just get after her? She's got a pretty good head start."

.

* * *

Adam Hines' office was large and modern. The only solid walls were internal. The exterior walls were glass from floor to ceiling allowing panoramic views of the city. The furniture, by comparison, was largely antique. In the centre of the room was a large mahogany desk on which was a framed picture of a smiling blonde woman and a young child. The bookcases along the interior walls were of the same wood and filled with ancient-looking leather-bound books with gold leaf lettering. The chair on which Adam sat and admired the view was a well-padded black leather reproduction. He didn't turn at the loud rap on the door. He was expecting his visitor. Even as she entered, flanked by a security officer, he didn't move. He simply dismissed the guard with a wave of his hand.

Amelia remained silent, her eyes darting around the office. Aside from the door, she had entered by, she knew that there was another, concealed, in the far wall. She just needed to speak with him long enough to convince him that she had changed her mind and then, when he was relaxed, she would strike. She wasn't going to get the chance.

Adam stood and walked around the desk until he was toe to toe with her, an iniquitous smile on his lips. He gently slipped his hands along her waist, pulling her towards him. Amelia's heart pounded in her chest and bile rose in her throat as his lips drew nearer to her own.

"You weren't this reluctant with my previous host," he smirked. She felt him slip his fingers into the waistband of her jeans and pull out the small metal vial. He stepped back and held it up. She sighed, her eyes closed and her shoulders slumping.

"Sit," he said, pushing her so that she lost her balance and slammed down into the chair behind her. She pulled herself straight as Adam returned to the opposite side of the desk and placed the little bottle onto the surface.

"You are him, aren't you?" she said at last.

"Who?" he replied, the picture of innocence. He took his seat, but his eyes never left hers.

"You're Ba'al. You're a…" She swallowed. "You're a Goa'uld."

"Very astute. What gave me away?" he asked, trying to appear disappointed that she had seen through him.

"Oh God," she whimpered, revulsion washing over her. "I can't believe…"

"You weren't complaining at the time, as I recall," he replied, reaping immense satisfaction as he watched her squirm. "You were planning to kill me with symbiote poison," he said, picking up the vial and turning it around in his fingers.

"Yes," she replied bluntly.

"You understand how this works? Adam Hines will die with me."

"Yes, but then what's left of Adam Hines? What's left for Adam? His son died. I'm taking a bet that you've killed Beth." Her eye caught the photograph on the table and a lump rose in her throat. Until she said the words it hadn't seemed real. Her friend Beth, dead.

"She would have made an excellent queen, but she was so…resistant. She had to go," Ba'al said in such a matter-of-fact way that Amelia was about ready to kill him with her bare hands.

"How long have you…infested Adam?"

"Infested?" Ba'al frowned. "I owned this body before the Tok'ra made such a display of extracting the symbiote from…twenty-seven." He caught a glimpse of himself in the glass of the photograph on the desk and shook his head. "Sadly, this host doesn't have the…physical qualities of the last. I know you think so, too." His gaze cruised her figure and she unconsciously pulled her jacket closer around her body.

"Twenty-seven?"

"I think it was twenty-seven. I can't be sure. There were so many clones that even I lost count in the end."

"But you're the original?"

"Hiding in plain sight all this time. Quietly going about Adam Hines business, using his memories. He wasn't as resistant to the idea as you might imagine, though."

"He would never have willingly allowed you to take his body."

"Adam Hines had a degenerative disease. Why do you think he was so keen to work with the Trust? He hoped that some alien technology would allow him to live. He kept it a secret, but he jumped at the chance of a cure. I cured him."

"He couldn't have known…"

Ba'al inclined his head and shrugged. "I perhaps wasn't as clear about the arrangements as I could have been," he laughed.

"Why try to convince me that Beth was still alive. The cookies…that was just sick."

"Appearances. It's what she would have done." He leaned forward on the desk and smiled. "Now, it will do nothing for my reputation if this gets out but…I baked them myself. Turns out Adam Hines was quite the genius in the kitchen."

Amelia's mouth dropped open and she stared at him for a moment, her expression blank. "You really are completely crazy, aren't you?" she replied, pushing her chair back from the desk a little.

"Perhaps." He leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. "So, now I suppose I must decide what to do with you."

"I'm not afraid of you. I came here fully expecting to die."

"That would be too easy."

"What were you planning to do with the serum the Zertanians were producing?"

Adam smiled, ignoring her question. "What do you know about the Goa'uld and its relationship with the host?"

"Enough to know I'd rather die than be infested by a parasite like you," Amelia replied through clenched teeth, her fingers balling into fists. He stood and made his way over to a large mahogany cupboard, turning the key and opening the door. Inside was a clear jar containing a cloudy liquid and a snake-like creature. Amelia felt the beads of perspiration forming on her brow as he withdrew the jar from the cupboard and placed it on the desk, her eyes widening.

"You are not an unattractive woman, strong, perhaps a little too willful, but that can be altered…and I am in need of a queen."

The intercom buzzed, visibly startling Amelia.

"Yes," Ba'al answered impatiently.

"Sorry to disturb you, Sir, but I thought you'd want to know. A helicopter has just landed on the helipad on the roof. The guard recognised Colonel Mitchell. It's SG1," the crackly voice advised.

Amelia felt her hopes soar and relief wash over her. She took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. Ba'al rolled his eyes but didn't answer the guard. He pulled out a pistol from a holster concealed beneath his jacket and pointed it directly at Amelia's head.

"It seems you made an impression on Colonel Mitchell…again! You really do have a weakness for a man in uniform, don't you?" Ba'al smirked.

"Rather an unconventional choice of weapon for a Goa'uld," she quipped despite her growing trepidation. Ba'al gave her a sarcastic grin.

"Appearances are everything. Move!" he demanded, grabbing the glass container from the desk.

Amelia pulled herself to her feet and walked in the direction Ba'al indicated, towards the secondary door. Behind it was what, at first glance, appeared to be a small room. Another man, a weapon in his hand, grabbed her arm and pulled her inside. Ba'al followed, pressing a button to the right of the doorway and Amelia's stomach lurched as the private lift descended.

They stepped out of the elevator and into the relative darkness of the basement. A chill breeze whipped through and made Amelia shiver. Three large SUV's waited in line, motors running. The doors of the central vehicle stood open. Amelia wondered if the driver was a Goa'uld too. Her eyes darted around, looking for an escape but Ba'al had read her thoughts. He took hold of her arm and pressed the cold metal barrel of his weapon against her temple.

"I have plans for you, Doctor Hendrik, and your escaping is not part of them." He forcibly pushed her into the car and slammed the door. She immediately grabbed the interior handle, pulling frantically at it. Ba'al slipped in through the other door and shook his head. "Do you really think I'm that stupid. You should also know that this vehicle is armoured, the tyres are 'run-flat' and the glass is bulletproof. Your friends aren't rescuing you."

"Where are you taking me?" she asked.

"That is irrelevant." He pulled an atomiser from his pocket and sprayed it directly into her face. She choked as she breathed in the fine mist.

"What the hell..?" she spluttered, wiping her face.

"Nishta," he said. "A little crude but until I have perfected the biological weapon that you were good enough to provide, nishta will be good enough. It will make you compliant. Within the hour it will have spread through every cell in your body and you will do anything I ask of you, including killing your Tau'ri friends. And then, Astarte will live again…in you."

"NEVER," she yelled.

The SUV jerked forwards, creeping towards the shuttered exit.

.

* * *

Major Paul Davis shoved the three security men into the room and instructed them to lay face down on the floor with their hands behind their backs. He quickly flexi-cuffed their wrists. Carter pointed her Berretta at the young secretary who was frozen with fear in her chair, tears cascading from her heavily made-up eyes and her mascara running down her cheeks, leaving dark brown tracks.

"That'd be Hines' office, right," Mitchell said, trying the handle of the only other door.

The girl nodded her head. "I don't have a key," she said in a high-pitched panicked voice.

"Don't need one," Mitchell replied. He kicked the door of the office and it flew open, fracturing the wood of the frame.

Pointing his weapon directly in front of him he scanned the room. The door to the lift stood open. Mitchell stared down into the shaft. There was nowhere for anyone to hide. The office was empty.

"It's clear!" Mitchell yelled from inside the office. "They've gone. We've lost them." Mitchell sounded defeated.

"Maybe not! Look!" Sam cried, grabbing his sleeve and pointing out of the window. "That's just come from the basement of this building."

A motorcade of black SUV's was making its way at some speed up the road outside the building. Mitchell ran.

"How am I supposed to explain this to Mr Hines?" the secretary sobbed.

Davis paused for a moment and smiled. "I don't think he'll be back any time soon."

Mitchell took the stairs to the helipad two at a time, the others struggling to keep up. He wasn't prepared to wait and was already instructing the pilot to go as the others climbed on board.

"You're not on some personal mission of revenge, Cam," Carter said as she settled herself into her seat. Mitchell didn't look at her, his lips a thin line of determination.

"Don't lose them," he yelled to the pilot through the mic on his headset.

.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

.

Amelia sat silently in the rear of the vehicle, a weapon still pointed at her. She glanced from the corner of her eye at the Goa'uld symbiote in the jar, terrified that this was the fate that would befall her. She had accepted that she could die. She understood that survival meant imprisonment but to live the rest of her life controlled by the Goa'uld was unconscionable. For now, though, she just needed Ba'al to believe the nishta had been effective and pray that he didn't ask her to prove it. It seemed it had not crossed his mind that her NID training would have involved ensuring immunity to the mind-altering drug. It was the only ace she had up her sleeve and she needed to keep it that way for now.

Ba'al looked out of the window and up to the sky. "Your Colonel Mitchell is tenacious," he said. "But he is wasting his time. You will be host to Astarte before he has the opportunity to play the hero. You wish to be host to my queen do you not?"

Amelia swallowed back her fear. "I welcome Astarte," she replied. "It is an honour."

Ba'al narrowed his eyes, observing her closely. Not convinced, Amelia thought to herself, but there was nothing she could do. She had to ride this one out and hope for the best. She stared straight ahead, not daring to meet his gaze. The whole plan had been ill-conceived. She knew that, but she had to do something. For herself, yes, but also for Munroe and Holmes and Velez.

.

* * *

Mitchell stared down over the city. The roads were crowded with rush hour traffic. Cars nose to tail in the direction of the main business centre. Only slightly less so in the opposite direction but enough that he knew he'd seen something that wasn't sitting right.

"Fly past again," he called out to the pilot. Mitchell slid open the side door and checked out each vehicle in turn.

"What is it?" Sam shouted over the noise of the helicopter blades.

"I saw something…an SUV or…" He paused, staring intently. "Down there. That white SUV."

"What about it?" Sam replied.

"It didn't go under the overpass on the other side. Just came out there."

"Are you sure?"

"It must have been waiting. She's been transferred."

Sam frowned. "If you're wrong and we chase that one..."

"I'm not wrong," Mitchell said, then instructed the pilot. He looked around, out into the distance. Colorado Springs airport wasn't too far away. Warehouses, many of which were available for lease. "That's it," he mumbled.

"What?" Sam asked.

"The airport. They're headed to the warehouses and the airport. How else would he be getting her out of here? It's not like he can hide a tel'tak in the city, but he could put her in a helicopter and take her out to the desert or into the mountains. He could have something concealed somewhere else. There's no way he'd strand himself on Earth. Ba'al might be a huge pain in the ass but he isn't stupid."

Sam nodded, thinking it through. It made sense.

.

* * *

Ba'al led Amelia into the warehouse. It was dark, and it took her eyes a few seconds to adjust but when they did she could see it was quite the setup. People were coming and going through the various doors along the back wall. Dozens of computers were set up and dozens of people were sat in front of them, monitoring communications and interpreting data. It was a hive of activity.

"You," Ba'al said, pointing to a young man with dark hair and piercing blue eyes who was wearing a suit that looked a little tight around the shoulders and thighs. "Bring the symbiote from the vehicle then join us."

The man looked at Amelia for a moment, the left corner of his mouth turning up. "Yes, my Lord."

"Impressive, isn't it," Ba'al smiled.

Amelia nodded. "Yes, my lord," she replied, suddenly remembering the nishta.

Ba'al smiled. "Come, it is time to accept your destiny. Everything has been leading to this moment for you, Amelia. I have known of your...reticence for some time now. I probably should have killed you but something about your spirit appealed to me. You will make a fine queen."

"As you wish, my lord," she replied, fighting to keep the terror from her voice. There was nowhere to run. She could feel beads of perspiration form in her hairline and wished with all her heart that he had just killed her.

Ba'al gripped her arm and dragged her further into the building. The room they entered was bright and contained a metal chair with restrains for hands and feet.

"Sit," Ba'al said. Amelia obeyed. The young man entered and removed the lid from the glass jar. Ba'al plunged his hand inside, pulling out the symbiote. Amelia began to fidget in her seat, her eyes growing wide with fear despite her best efforts.

Ba'al laughed as he approached. "Did you really think I was fooled? Even if that had been nishta, it would not have worked on you, would it?"

Amelia frowned. "Then why..?"

"Because I knew that you would wish me to believe you were compliant. It made it easier than having you fighting. There was a danger the symbiote could have been damaged." He grabbed her hair in his free hand, forcing her head forwards and ignoring her cries of terror and pain as the symbiote burrowed into the back of her neck. Ba'al stepped back as Amelia's screams abruptly ceased, her head lolling forwards. Long silent minutes passed. Ba'al circled the chair, impatiently. The guy in the suit looked on nervously. Ba'al's temper was legendary and it wasn't unknown for him to take his disappointment and frustration out on the nearest living thing. He breathed a sigh of relief as Amelia slowly lifted her head and opened her eyes. Her ocular membrane flashed white and an iniquitous smile creeping to her lips.

"My lord Ba'al," she greeted, her voice reverberating. "It is an honour."

"Of course it is," he replied, reaching out and stroking the back of his fingers across her cheek. The guy in the suit undid the shackles and Amelia stood, wobbling slightly. Dizzy. Ba'al took her hand. As they passed through the doorway into the warehouse Amelia caught the eye of the young man in the suit. A smile flashed across her lips and the young man gave her a barely discernible nod.

"I wish you to welcome my queen, Astarte," Ba'al shouted. The buzz in the room ceased. "As my queen, you will command respect and loyalty. First, however, there will be the little matter of the Tau'ri, Mitchell, who is on his way here. Your saviour!"

"Then he will die here," Astarte replied. "At my hand."

Ba'al smiled and raised his eyebrow, appreciatively.

.

* * *

The military helicopter touched down a couple of buildings away from the warehouse they had seen the SUV disappear inside. Mitchell had called for reinforcements and they were still waiting, impatiently in Mitchell's case.

"They're two minutes away, sir," Davis called over to him. Mitchell nodded but didn't seem pacified.

"I'm going in for a closer look," he said.

Carter grabbed the sleeve of his fatigues, pulling him back. "No, you're not!" she said. "Unless you're planning on getting yourself killed and Amelia into the bargain."

He yanked his arm free but didn't move. He knew she was right, but that didn't stop him feeling a massive sense of relief when he saw the helicopters and watched the teams deploy onto the rooftops and the surrounding areas. They moved forward, Mitchell leading the assault on the main door. Carter frowned at him as he placed the C4 explosive on the door and indicated for the teams to stand back. She wondered why he hadn't just tried the handle first. The team entered the building as the smoke cleared. The room was in chaos. People wiping hard drives, grabbing equipment and trying to load it into vans. The shutters were rolling up to aid their escape but black clad military operatives were swarming around them. Ba'al was stood perfectly still in the middle of it all, Amelia behind and slightly to his right.

"Let her go!" Mitchell yelled.

Ba'al raised his eyebrows. "I think you will find she does not wish to leave. Astarte is my queen."

Amelia took a step back and grabbed the Glock from the holster of one of Ba'al guards. She pointed it at him. "Run," she whispered. He did, almost falling over his own feet in his eagerness to be gone. Then she turned and placed the barrel at the base of Ba'al skull. Mitchell and Carter looked on, neither wanting to provoke a reaction.

"Colonel Carter, Colonel Mitchell, I am pleased to meet you." The reverberation of her voice surprised them both.

"You've got to be kidding," Carter said. "You're a Goa'uld?"

Amelia smiled, turned back to Ba'al and pulled the trigger. He fell forward, hitting the ground hard. The symbiote attempted to escape the body but Amelia pointed her weapon and fired again, cutting the snake-like creature in half. "I have done what you have failed to do on so many occasions. I have destroyed Ba'al."

"Colonel, we heard..." Davis began as he rushed into the room, weapon in his hand. He stopped dead, his gaze switching from Amelia to Ba'al's body and back again. "Amelia?"

"Not so much," Mitchell replied. "So, _Astarte_ , what now? You know you'll never get out of here alive."

"I have no intention of attempting escape. I wish you to take me to the SGC. I need to speak with General Landry."

"Whatever little plan you've got going on in that creepy head of yours, it's not going to work," Mitchell said, taking a step towards her, testing the ground. She dropped the pistol and stood still. "Carter, get the rest of these guys rounded up. If they resist...shoot them."

"No, wait!" Astarte yelled.

"Carry on, Carter," Mitchell ordered and then turned back to Amelia. "The only place you're going is straight to the Tok'ra to get that thing taken out of your head."

"Listen to me," she pleaded.

"I'm through listening."

Amelia closed her eyes for a second then looked up and smiled. "It's not what you think, Cam." He was stunned. Her voice was...well, hers again. "The symbiote is not Astarte. She is Iria. She is a Tok'ra operative. Her host was killed while she was undercover here and she was kept in stasis. There are several Tok'ra here, including the one who switched the symbiote that Ba'al had brought with him." She pointed over at the white SUV. "Caius, please fetch Astarte for Colonel Mitchell."

Davis followed him, his weapon at his back.

"Amelia?" Mitchell whispered.

She nodded.

"Tok'ra?"

"I swear, but if you return me to them, they will find another host. Iria doesn't really want to be locked away for the rest of her days either," she smiled. "And I'm willing to accept a prison sentence but I doubt the years will fly by when I can live beyond a hundred."

Mitchell leaned in, his lips by her ear. Amelia shuddered as his closeness. "Then run. I won't stop you."

"You know I can't do that." She closed her eyes and Iria returned. "Colonel Mitchell, Amelia is determined to take down the Trust. We have had people embedded here for some time and the truth is that she will not succeed. I will return Amelia to you as soon as I have passed on all the intelligence I have gathered. You have my word."

"How long were you..."

"In stasis? Only a few days. My host was badly injured. For me to have saved him would have given away our operation so he sacrificed himself. We have been waiting for this opportunity. We knew that Ba'al wanted a host for Astarte and we were reasonably sure he would come here. This is the base of his operation." She glanced down at the body and symbiote. "Was."

"You have another host?"

"I do not, but the stasis jar is still intact. It will protect me long enough to return me to the Tok'ra. They will find a host for me."

"And I get Millie back?"

Iria smiled and nodded. "You are very fond of her, I think."

"I guess I just wish I knew what she was thinking," Mitchell replied.

Iria smiled. "Colonel Mitchell, to speak of her affection for you would be an unacceptable breach of the trust between a Tok'ra and the host." She winked.

"Can you help her? Take her back to the Tok'ra. Protect her. I can't see her go to prison."

Iria shook her head and place her hand on Mitchell's shoulder. "I will do nothing against her will and she does not wish it. To do so would make us no better than the Goa'uld." She held out her wrists. "It is time to go. I assume you will wish to restrain me?"

"Colonel, we have a problem," Davis said. " The symbiote, Astarte...it's gone."

.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

.

Amelia sat quietly on the bed in her cell. She had been there since she returned from the Tok'ra almost seventy-two hours ago and the only person she had seen was the guard who brought her food and water. She was dressed in a grey coloured jump-suit that was a few sizes too large for her. She had rolled up the sleeves just so that her hands were free of the excess fabric. Beside her on the bare, plastic-covered mattress were the remnants of her last meal. Chicken stew. At least that was what they had told her it was. It certainly hadn't tasted much like chicken, not that she cared. She wasn't particularly hungry. She was both afraid and relived. It was finally over, and she was free of the Trust and Mitchell would be safe, but she was afraid of the bleak future behind bars. As if he had been able to read her mind, Landry had listed her as a suicide risk. She had no sheets or blankets on the bed. Her food was served on paper plates with a flimsy plastic spoon and her water was delivered in a paper cup. She could almost have laughed. She wasn't a suicide risk. Not right now at least. Not until she had her day in court. Her opportunity to take down the people at the head of the shadowy agency that had ruined her life and taken the lives of so many others.

She thought about the offer Mitchell had made in the warehouse, to allow her to remain with the Tok'ra, but that wasn't a life she wanted. She no longer carried the symbiote. The Tok'ra had collected the stasis jar and returned Iria to the new host that waited for her on their current home planet, but she wondered if perhaps she had made a mistake. Perhaps she should have stayed with them after all. Iria had wanted her to know that she would always be welcome. She had also been clear that it would be a long hard battle to bring the rest of the traitors to book. A battle she was unlikely to win.

She remembered the look of horror and, perhaps, disappointment, on Davis' face when he saw her stood over the body of Adam Hines, a Beretta in her hand. He had known she had killed people before. He understood that this particular death was necessary, but it was still the first time he had actually seen it with his own eyes. She could understand why he hadn't visited. Why nobody had.

"Stand away from the door," the airman on duty called out. Amelia had grown accustomed to the routine and stood, her back against the far wall, her hands out in front of her where they could be seen. The door opened, and Mitchell stepped through.

"Cam?" she whispered.

"Doctor Hendrik," he replied, holding out a set of cuffs. He was distant, and it hurt but she understood his reasons. She allowed him to snap the cuffs onto her wrists. "General Landry wants to talk to you."

She lifted her hands, rattling the cuffs. "Are you scared I'll run?" she asked.

"Where would you run to? You can't get off this base without a pass and if you tried, I'd shoot you myself."

Mitchell led the way, but despite what he'd said, he wasn't taking any chances. An armed airman was close behind Amelia as they walked through the corridors. He pushed open another door on the same level. It was a well-furnished room with two large black leather sofas and a wooden table and chairs. At the far end of the room was a double bed with sheets and pillows. She suddenly realised how tired she was. The thought of curling up on that bed was beyond tempting.

"Sit," he said pointing at the table. Amelia obeyed. Seconds later Landry entered. He paced the room for a moment, seeming to carefully consider his words. "Doctor Hendrik, I have been persuaded that you deserve a second chance. Marlag has made it clear that without you, there was a very serious danger that the Goa'uld could have used that weapon. He also credits you with having been able to produce an antidote. The tissue samples you stole and the data you brought back…he tells me he could not have worked it out without all of that."

"That's very generous of him but the fact remains that I killed a man, not for the first time. I accept my fate, General Landry. I just want to be able to take the rest of them down with me."

"You also were instrumental in finally bringing down Ba'al. He could have gone on indefinitely as Adam Hines." Landry continued, disregarding her. "You've probably heard about the Alpha site on P4X-650?"

Amelia nodded.

"It's our secure off-world site. Self-contained with only essential personnel. Re-directs for personnel who have potentially been compromised. We also have some of the F-302's there. I'm offering you a job. CMO at the Alpha site." Landry said. "Doctor Harris was the CMO for the Alpha site. He was due to retire a month ago, but we persuaded him to stay on until Colonel Pierce found a replacement. Things have been busy, and it wasn't a priority, but I think it would be perfect for you."

Amelia's eyes narrowed as she looked from Landry to Mitchell, running the scenario through her mind, looking for the catch. "Why?"

"Poetic justice," Mitchell muttered.

"What?"

"You were using the SGC so the SGC is using you. Put your skills to use. Repay your debt by helping the Stargate program," Mitchell explained.

"Don't misunderstand me, Doctor Hendrik. It's potentially dangerous work. It will involve some off-world travel. Certainly not the soft option," Landry emphasised. "But I would strongly advise you to accept."

"Banished from the planet. That's real Sci-fi stuff," she smiled weakly. "I can't accept though."

Mitchell exhaled unnecessarily loudly, rolling his eyes.

"May I ask why not?" Landry asked, raising his eyebrows.

"If I accept…then I don't get my day in court? I don't get to expose them?" she asked.

"No, you don't," Landry replied bluntly.

"There you go, then. I can't do it. I have to take them down or what has all this been for. They have to be stopped. People have lost their lives. If it wasn't for me, Munroe wouldn't be dead, and his family wouldn't be missing."

Landry and Mitchell exchanged glances. "Munroe's wife and daughters were found in the warehouse. I'm sorry. I assumed you would have been told," Landry said.

"They're okay?" Amelia asked, her heart pounding.

"The girls were unharmed. Mrs Munroe was being used as a host for a minor Goa'uld. The Tok'ra have removed the symbiote and are helping her come to terms with her ordeal."

"Thank god!" Amelia mumbled. "It doesn't change anything though."

Mitchell placed his hands on the table, leaning over her, but staring at the table top, his fingers curled into fists.

Landry took a deep breath. "I'm going to leave this with you, Colonel Mitchell. Doctor Hendrik can remain here when you're done. Let me know what she decides."

Amelia's suspicious stare followed him as he crossed the room and left.

"What the hell is going on here?" she cried, jumping to her feet the second the door was closed.

"Take it, Millie," Mitchell said gently.

"What about Sizemore and the others?"

"Sizemore's covered his tracks. There are no links to you other than his friendship with your father. His calls never came from his own cell phone. We suspect it was a burner. Even so, they could be talked away as a concerned family friend looking out for the daughter of his dead army buddy. We can't link him to the Trust. There's nothing. No paper trails. No tech trails. It's over, Millie, and it's all going to be on you. You go to court…you're going down for all of it."

Amelia began pacing the room, her mind racing. "That's just not possible."

"Iria told us as much. The Tok'ra have been undercover with them for months. You know what she knows. So, you know I'm telling you the truth."

"Why would the Tok'ra not have told you they were on the inside?" It was a stupid question she already knew the answer to. The military had been infiltrated and they didn't know who they could trust. "It can't just be over like that. They can't get away with it. What if there are more of them? Sizemore could be a Goa'uld for all we know."

"You know that's not true."

"Okay but just because he isn't..."

Millie…"

"So, I have the choice between living the rest of my life in a prison cell or being banished from the planet?" she yelled. "I would have been better off dead."

"Don't say that!" he demanded.

"What sort of choice is this?"

"Truth is, I'm not here to offer you a choice, Millie. There isn't going to be an investigation. It's over."

"What are you talking about? Why not?"

"Because…" He paused. He knew her well. Knew her temper and this was going to send her nuclear. "Because you died in an accident off-world yesterday."

She stared blankly at him for a moment. "What?" she asked.

"You were hit during a firefight with the Goa'uld. You killed Ba'al but then you were killed trying to escape. Three shots from a Zat."

"My body disintegrated," she said. "You guys really go to a lot of trouble to clean up your mess, don't you, but you can't do that."

"We already did. There's a memorial service on Friday."

"You can't just kill me like that. How does that even work? I'll have no name. No history. I'm a highly qualified doctor. How can I ever work again if I don't exist?"

"I told you there wasn't much choice. You'll be given a new identity. A new name. Your background will be created and you'll have all the same qualifications, but plenty of people who work for the military have their backgrounds scrubbed. Special Ops, that sort of thing." He crossed the room, grabbing her arms. "Go to the Alpha site, Millie. I can't lose you again. We can still…"

Amelia laughed and pulled herself free of his grasp. "That really would be a long-distance relationship."

"I'm serious."

"It would never work. After everything that we've been through…I guess it would have been nice but it's crazy. We're done, Cam. We both know that, deep down," she smiled. "That's not to say I won't be jealous as hell when I find out you've got yourself a girlfriend. And don't expect me to like her!"

"Marry me."

She frowned, her mouth open for a few seconds. "Excuse me?"

"Marry me. You know I love you, Millie. Hell, I'm crazy about you."

She stared into his eyes. She could see he meant it. It wasn't just a spur of the moment thing either. "Have you lost your mind?"

"No."

She shook her head. "I can't, Cam."

"Why not?" He wasn't beaten that easily. He didn't believe she meant it for one thing.

"Well for a start, I'm dead, remember. how do you marry someone with no name? Actually, what happens there? Do I just pick one at random?"

"It doesn't matter what name you pick, Millie." He reached out, curling his fingers around hers. "You'll only need it for as long as it takes to pick up the marriage licence. After that you'd have mine," he replied softly and for a moment her resolve wavered.

"It's not the only thing, Cam. I'd really not be a great career move for you. And even if I agree...I am inordinately fond of your mother and we could never have the life that she wants for you. The happy family. The grandchildren. Weekend visits and big family dinners on a Sunday with all the women in the kitchen and the men watching sport on the TV. The kids running around the outside or baking cookies with your mother or..." She stopped, abruptly. It wasn't just Cam's mother's fantasy. Ever since she had met him, it had been Amelia's fantasy too, and it was killing her to give it up for the second time.

Mitchell shook his head. "Honestly, I can't see my mom keeping you in the kitchen for long. I've tasted your cooking, remember."

"Cam...don't change the subject."

"We can make it work if we both want it enough, Millie. I know I do. My folks know my work's classified. They're used to not hearing from me for weeks," he whispered as she ran her hands over his chest. "Besides, I'm the best damn pilot they have. I can fly the F-302's. I can help with the development of the new interceptors."

"You always said you wanted a ranch, somewhere you could bring up a family…I can't…"

"Yes, you can. We can. You only have to stay until this whole thing blows over. A couple of years. You'll come back. Doctor Mitchell will set up a clinic, out of the house if you like. We'll bury ourselves away in the countryside. Small town life. Nobody will know you and nobody will find you." He pushed a stray curl behind her ear. "I just want you and the..."

"Kids and the dogs," she finished for him, smiling. "You've really thought this through, haven't you?"

"I had plenty of time to think while I was sat in that hut waiting for Carter to rescue me," he replied with a chuckle. "I told you then that I'd find a way. So, what do you say?"

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Cam. I need time to think."

Mitchell nodded. "Well, at least we've moved on from 'no'."

"Not that far."

"Far enough."

"I am curious though. How did you persuade Landry?" she asked.

Mitchell took a deep breath. He could lie but in spite of everything, he couldn't bring himself to do it. "I didn't," he said. "Someone had already fought your corner pretty hard."

"Who?"

"Major Davis."

.


	24. EPILOGUE

EPILOGUE

.

Amelia looked at the calendar on the wall of her office. A yellow circle surrounded the date. Three months to the day since she stepped through the Stargate with what few possessions she could take with her. The Alpha site was similar to the SGC in that everything seemed to be decorated in the same miserable shade of grey, with very little to liven it up. She had brought a Peace Lily with her. A gift from General Landry on her departure. She'd never had a particularly green thumb but so far it looked healthy. There were still things she missed about Earth. Mostly people. The friends she had made at the SGC. Sam had promised to visit when she had time but that had been weeks ago. She hadn't heard from Mitchell for three weeks, and she wasn't sure that Davis would ever speak to her again. On rare occasions, in particularly lonely moments, she wondered about her mother. Wondered if she had mourned the 'death' of her daughter. Probably not. Colonel Pierce had done his best to give Amelia a warm welcome and made a point of inviting her to the weekly poker game. She had gone a couple of times, but she was certainly no poker player, so she'd gracefully bowed out.

Landry had told her that it wouldn't be a picnic but so far there hadn't been any disasters. No serious incidents and only the occasional redirect of a potentially compromised team. The odd alien here and there, sent to the Alpha site to be screened before being allowed to the SGC. She had met with the Tok'ra again. Iria, to be exact. She had helped Amelia come to terms with the last several months and the things that she had done in the preceding years. She had promised to stay in touch. Promised that there would always be a place with the Tok'ra for her.

Marlag had insisted on joining Amelia. He had no home to go to. The world they had come from had been destroyed. The rebels within the Zertanian ranks had seen to that when they understood just what their Commander had promised in return for their safety. The rest were turned when it became clear that he had every intention of using the weapon on the tau'ri. The uprising had been swift and final with few evacuated before the rebels activated an explosive of such magnitude, there was not a living thing, animal or vegetable, left on the surface.

The gate alarm seemed to ring out here all the time. More than it had at the SGC. But then, most of the visitors to the Alpha site were unscheduled. You didn't really make an appointment to get checked over for symbiotes in advance. It was ringing out again and it was doing nothing for her pounding head. She removed her glasses and closed her eyes. It was the smell of fresh coffee that made her open them again.

"I remember you lived on this the first few days at the SGC."

She jumped to her feet. "Paul!" She embraced him as he struggled to keep the contents of the mug from escaping. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here with the Tok'ra. They've agreed to help rehome the refugee's from Zertan…not that there are many. Some have even volunteered to be hosts to help fight the Goa'uld. The Tok'ra aren't sure that their physiology is compatible but they're looking into it," he smiled. "Speaking of which, I understand that Marlag couldn't bear to leave you."

Amelia laughed. "I doubt it was my sparkling personality. I jumped at the chance of having him on my team though. The man is a genius in microbiology and xenobiology."

"Quite the accolade coming from you," Davis smiled. "I can't stay. I have to get back to work but I couldn't come by without calling in to see you. Maybe next time I'll buy you lunch."

"It might have escaped your notice but there isn't exactly a Subway franchise on every corner here," she chuckled.

"Good point," he replied.

"Listen, I never really got the opportunity to thank you for what you did for me. Cam told me that it was you that persuaded General Landry."

"It was the right thing to do, but he didn't take much persuading."

"You've heard I'm dead, I guess."

He nodded and gave her a wry smile. "I went to your memorial. It was beautiful. Well attended too. Even General Sizemore turned up."

Amelia's expression grew darker. "So, he's still walking around free."

Davis perched on the edge of her desk. "It's not over. With the head cut off the body doesn't know what to do. With Ba'al gone, it's falling apart. They'll make a mistake and we'll be waiting for them."

Amelia nodded. "How is everyone back at the SGC?"

"Good. Colonel Carter's heading up SG1 while Colonel Mitchell's away. She's putting potential new SG1 team members through their paces. Teal'c's visiting his son and daughter-in-law. Doctor Jackson's…well…Doctor Jackson," he replied.

"Yeah!"

He stood. "Look, I'd better get back. It's been great to see you again." He kissed her cheek. "Hopefully I'll see you again soon."

She felt a pang of sadness as he left her alone. The feeling of isolation she had struggled against when she first arrived, creeping over her again. She glanced at her watch. It was a couple of hours before suppertime, but she was hungry. She always seemed to be hungry and she couldn't help wondering if there was something in the atmosphere.

She dragged herself to her feet and grabbed her bag as fatigue washed over her. She always locked the office door even though all of her work was on her laptop. Old habits died hard, apparently. She popped her head into the lab next door where Marlag was busy working. The man was indefatigable and not for the first time did she wish she had half of his stamina.

"I'm going to freshen up and then I'm going to the mess. Fancy joining me for something to eat?" she asked.

Marlag looked up and shook his head. "I wish to finish my work," he said. It was unusual. He rarely skipped a meal.

"Sure," she said, frowning as a smile crept across Marlag's lips.

She carried on down the corridor. Her quarters were only a few hundred feet from the infirmary at her insistence, just in case she was needed. Colonel Pierce had reluctantly agreed, converting one of the isolation rooms. She had also insisted it was painted in cream. He'd been less accommodating about that though and she'd had to make do with whatever had been left in the stores. So, her quarters were a pale beige colour. It was better than grey, she had figured in the end. She swiped her ID card in the slot beside the door and it clicked open. Following her usual habit, she dropped her bag on the sofa and flicked on the lamp which sat on a low table near the door. She stripped of the white doctor's coat and pulled the elastic band out of her hair, running her fingers through it to try to tame it a little. She would get in the shower soon, but for the minute she needed one of the biscuits she had stashed in the desk drawer.

"Tough day?"

She spun around, her heart pounding as adrenaline coursed through her veins. Cameron Mitchell was stood in the doorway of the bathroom, leaning against the frame. She stared at him for a moment.

"I'm sorry," she said, finally. "You look familiar but...you'll have to remind me…"

"I get that it's been a while and you're not as young as you were, but I didn't think your memory would be going already. I'm Cameron Mitchell. Lieutenant Colonel, United States Air Force. Recipient of the Medal of Honor, Purple Heart…"

"Enormous ego!" she added. "Yes, now I remember you."

He ignored her. "I could go on," he smiled.

"I'd rather you didn't. What are you doing here?"

"I thought we could get something to eat, maybe a drink," he said, pointing to a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket and two glasses sat on the nightstand.

"You're very sure of yourself, Cameron Mitchell. Lieutenant Colonel, United States Air Force."

"I've been stranded in deep space for three weeks, not sure if I'd ever get back to Earth again. Not sure I'd ever see you...or touch you again. And did I mention that I was stranded in deep space for _three weeks_." He crossed the room and banded his arm around her waist. Pulling her hard against his body, he leaned down to kiss her. "Damn right I'm sure of myself."

She wrapped her arms around his neck, returning the kiss, hard and deep.

"Can I expect that sort of greeting every time I come home," he muttered as he kissed her neck. She allowed it for a few minutes, enjoying his touch and the heat of his body against hers.

"They told me there was a problem with the hyper-drive. I was afraid you'd never get back. I didn't know how I was going to tell your parents…" A lump rose in her throat. "I've been worried sick."

He took her hands in his, running his thumb over the gold and diamond band on her left ring finger. "Well, I'm here now, Doctor Mitchell."

She smiled. "I'm not sure that I'll ever get used to that. And I'm certain I'll never get over the look on your mother's face when you told her we were married."

"Yeah. I join the ROTC program in college and she tells me she's glad I've stopped drifting. I survive the crash at Antarctica and it's like she expected it all along anyway."

"That's just an out and out lie!" she exclaimed. "I was there, remember. She was sat by your bed almost the whole time. She was absolutely distraught."

"Distraught I might die before I made her a grandma. I could get promoted to General and she'd probably not bat an eye."

Amelia slapped him on the arm. "Stop it, Cam."

"Nope. Only a tick in the two big boxes will make her happy. Box one. Marriage. Tick. Box two. Babies. Preferably dozens."

Amelia tried to conceal her mirth, but his exaggeration was amusing. "She's very proud of you, Cam. You know that."

"She's half proud of me," he joked. "I ticked box one when I married you."

Amelia smiled and slipped a piece of paper out of her pocket, handing it to him. He stared at it for a few long seconds, then looked back at her, confusion etched in his face.

"If that's true, then you're about to make your mother very proud," Amelia said. "Seems we ticked box two sooner than we'd anticipated."

.


End file.
